The Malfoy Will
by Anlynne
Summary: Five years after the war Draco came to Hermione begging for her help. Now as they fight a repeat in history, loyalties will be questioned and secrets known.
1. Chapter 1

No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter One

Request

She never trusted Draco Malfoy. What reasons did she have to? The bullying in school? The Dark Mark branded on his left forearm? His attempt to _kill_ their Headmaster? No, Hermione Granger did _not_ trust Malfoy. Yet, there she was in her office talking with him.

He fidgeted in the char in front of her desk. He tapped his fingers in a crescendo on the armrests and frequently moved to cross his ankles in turn over his legs. He glared at the nameplate, particularly at her last name it seemed.

"Didn't marry Weasel," he whispered.

Instantly she was irritated. "No, I didn't. And his name is Weasley. You have not changed at all since Hogwarts, have you?"

He glowered at her, his silver eyes probing. She found that the most uncomfortable thing he did, not just glaring, but staring deeply into her. It was as though he was reading everything about her. As though he could see every aspect of her, the good, the bad, and the thing she never wanted him to know about her.

He hadn't changed in his demeanor, but he had changed. He was taller nearing six feet, his white-blond hair growing to his brows. He seemed thinner, his face even more pointed than it was in school.

"If I hadn't, I wouldn't be here," he sneered that infamous sneer that she was all too acquainted with.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "There are plenty of good lawyers, Malfoy."

"Yes, but only _you_ can help me."

To her chagrin that interested her. "Why me?"

"Because you helped end the war. I don't want it to begin again."

"Voldemort's dead. You were there, you saw Harry kill him."

He flinched at the name but that didn't stop him from coming forward, his fingers gripping the edge of her desk. His scent was the same, dark and exhilarating. It was foreboding and yet safe. She found herself inhaling it, trying to bring it all in and memorize it, to make the situation real. He was there with her, finally.

She shook it out. What was wrong with her? She shouldn't have been doing that! He was there for business.

Malfoy leaned further in and she leaned back. "Why can't anyone follow in his footsteps," he roughly asked her.

Like cold water down her spine, chills raised bumps on her arms. She wanted to shake him, curse him, she wanted to do something. What was it that he knew? She shook her head, it wasn't her business, she had to direct him to someone else. "I can't help you, that isn't in my line of work. Go to Harry - "

"No," he spat.

"I'm a lawyer, not an Auror."

"You don't understand, Hermione, it has to be you. You have to do this."

She was so startled by the use of her given name that all she could ask was, "why?"

"You fought, you have it in you. You're smart. Only you can destroy the last piece." He reached into his brown briefcase and withdrew a tattered black book. He plopped it on her desk but as she reached for it he seized her wrists. "It burns anyone with... Muggle blood... More than a third of Muggle blood..." He took out green dragon-hide gloves. "Wear these."

She pulled them on, not missing the fact that Malfoy hadn't taken his gaze off of her. She ignored him and hesitantly laid a single finger on it. It didn't burn. She caressed the black cover and then she flipped to look at its back and binding, but there wasn't a name. There wasn't even a title or marking. There was nothing to hint at what was inside.

Hermione knew that there were loads of powerful and dark books out there. She was careful and therefore she didn't open it.

Malfoy slid it from her and opened the front cover. He read from it. "'_Chapter One: The uses of a Horcrux_.'"

Her insides froze. There was a copy... A copy of the book Tom Riddle read to learn how to split his soul, the very book Harry burned after the war. They never thought... A copy. How could they be so foolish?

"Where did you get this, Malfoy?"

"My great uncle was the author." Perhaps it was the trick of the light but he appeared to be ashamed. "I found it in my library. There were a lot of dark wizards in there. I can't be sure that no one else has read it. Hermione, this is the first version. It only talks about the good, no warnings."

"Destroy it!"

"I can't! Don't you think I've tried? It's immune to all elements; you can't rip it apart!"

"Give it to Harry!"

"No, I'm giving it to you!"

"What do you want me to do?!"

"Use your brain, that's what I want you to do! Do something - anything! You're the genius here. Figure something out!"

She slammed her hands on her desk so hard that the bottle of ink jumped and clattered. Even if it had spilled she wouldn't have cared. She could barely see straight. "I don't think I can! It'll have every spell against Muggles! I can't even touch it with my bare skin!"

"Please, Hermione," he said with such desperate need it made her ache for him. For Malfoy of all people.

She spoke before she thought, but it was words she would never truly regret saying. "I can't promise anything."

He smiled sadly with the smallest traces of pride, but oddly it wasn't of himself, but of her, as though she did the greatest thing in the world. "I trust you."

Before she could respond to such astonishing words he picked up his briefcase and left. She didn't look after him, she stared at the book with utmost loathing. It was more disgusting than the one before it.

How could she have promised such a thing? She threw it back down. She felt sick to her stomach and checked to see that the rubbage bin was close by.

She had no idea the trouble that book would cause. It would not only turn her life around but everyone else's. All she knew, was that they were in trouble and she only feared how much trouble that could be.

There was a second fear, one that she preferred not to acknowledge, but it was there, resting like a beast beneath every other spell that was rolling through her mind. It was the fear for Malfoy. Could he be in danger? Were they all in danger? Again?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Just Malfoy

Fifty-three spell books were sprawled around Hermione. Her hair was more wild than usual as she kept running her hands through it, frustrated. There had to be a spell that would destroy the book that sat in the center of the study.

She curled her legs under her and tried another spell. Nothing.

She groaned and tugged at her tresses. She picked up the wretched thing and chucked it across the room. It hit the lamp on her desk knocking it over, breaking on the floor. Just as well, it was an ugly lamp anyway, her aunt gave it to her as a homecoming present.

"What did it do?"

She didn't bother looking behind her to the doorway where one of her best friends stood. "I can't figure it out."

Harry sat next to her laying his arms over his knees. He stared at the stripped shards. "You aren't failing. You just haven't succeeded yet."

She smiled. "This shouldn't be in my possession. It belongs in -"

"Another department," he finished for her. They had the conversation before within the three days since she last saw Malfoy. How she would love to curse Malfoy...

"You won't give up," he added.

He was right, she wouldn't. Giving up was as bad as failure in her book. It was failure. She wouldn't - couldn't do that. It wasn't an option. The moment Malfoy asked her it became her responsibility. In all right (legally) it wasn't. For an unknown reason she didn't know why she couldn't see it that way. She didn't owe the bouncing blond ferret anything. She did owe him something, but it wasn't a favor. If she was to be honest with herself, she'd have to say that she owed him a lot... She owed him her life, although many days she resented him.

"Take a break. Ginny will be getting off of practice in a few. Go out with her."

"Is he still refusing protection?"

"Yes, but Hermione -"

"I'm not going to leave until this thing is gone." She didn't want history to repeat itself. Not after all the work they'd gone into setting it right. Not after things were peaceful in the wizarding world.

He sighed in defeat knowing in all the years of their friendship that there was no way of talking her out of it. She was not going to move from that spot until she completed the task at hand.

She muttered yet another spell, and nothing. She shouted a curse word, only slightly embarrassed that such an expletive left her mouth. Her anger was getting the best of her. The book was winning. What was she missing? Everything had a weakness. What was it? What spell was it that she didn't know? She was coming to greatly resent being known as the smartest witch of her time. It sure wasn't coming in much of use.

Harry pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose and took out his wand. "Two's better than one," he said.

She gave him an appreciative smile, and together they went over everything they knew. The book didn't so much as budge and Hermione was quickly getting disheartened again. It was shameful, after all they'd been through, that a book was going to get the best of them.

"It's getting late."

She looked up and saw the sky outside the window was splashed in pink and gold. They had been working hours...

"You're right. Thanks for trying to help. Do you want anything to eat?"

"No, thanks. I have some paperwork to tend to." He heaved himself to his feet. "Get some sleep. You'll figure it out."

She nodded as he left, but she certainly didn't agree. What if she never solved it? What danger would it pose to society? What if the danger was already building?

She kicked the book away and stood. If there was going to be any repercussions the first place they'd begin at would be Malfoy's house. As much as she despised the idea, she had to see him. It wasn't only for the hope of more information but to make him station Auror's on his property. She would never admit to caring, but she did. She cared deeply.

Malfoy could be the answer to it all...

As she trotted down the stairs she pulled out her mobile and dialed Ron's number. Thank goodness they all saw sense in the small Muggle technology. It was a lot quicker than Owls, but according to the Weasley's it was a lot more difficult. It was funny that Neville caught on faster than any of them (aside from Harry and her).

"Hello," called Ron's deeply gruff voice from a muffled distance.

"Turn the phone around, Ronald!"

"Oh, oh, hey!" His mouth was closer, his voice clearer.

She rolled her eyes not helping but to smile. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Watch Malfoy's house."

"Harry said that he refused."

"He did, but stand watch anyway."

"What? Hell no!"

"Please, Ron?"

"Why is this so important to you? It's just Malfoy and if he's thick-headed enough to believe he doesn't need the Ministry's help then..."

She sat the phone down slipping into her jacket. She could hear the soft pattering of rain that overrode his annoyed tone. She pulled her hood up and picked up the phone. Ron didn't sound like he had taken a breath.

"He's Malfoy! We don't owe him anything. Except maybe a good kick in the -"

"Please do this for me. I can't say why it's important, but it is."

He was quiet for a moment. "He'll sue if not kill me."

"I'll be your lawyer in court if you survive. Will you do it?"

"Yes."

She grinned. "Thank you so much Ron! Thank you!"

She clicked the mobile closed and stepped outside. She was elated, a weight off of her shoulders. She hadn't felt so light in days. The heavy clouds and rain didn't bring her spirits down, but leave it up to Malfoy to turn her life into a wreck. Leave it to a book...

She disapparated outside of her white iron gate, her small home and the planted tulips vanishing in a blur.

***

The Malfoy Manor was the last place Hermione wanted to be. To say the least it didn't hold the best of memories, but there she was, standing at its ivy strewn gates. Whatever it was that she thought she would feel, she didn't, and she was glad. She contributed it to the fact that the building in front of her didn't look like the manor she was tortured at.

The grass was overgrown, filled with weeds, the roof was in patches and a few of the windows were boarded up. It looked like its inhabitants abandoned it years ago. As far as her knowledge went, that could have very well happened.

The crunching of gravel behind her startled, and she spun. It was Ron, smiling at her, his grin stretching across his freckled face. It warmed her, a million memories of him smiling at her like that, a promise of a peaceful future.

"Malfoy left the house five years ago," he informed.

"When his parents died." Shortly after the war, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy was murdered on a street in broad daylight. It was bound to happen, many reformed Death Eaters were killed or at the very least, not trusted.

"Yeah, according to our records he also released his house-elves."

She tried to grasp that information. Malfoy left his manor, released his slaves, and asked for her help. Something was definitely off. Had he been knocked off his broom?

"Is there any mention of attempted murder by him?"

Ron shook his head. "Nope, not a thing. Why do you ask?"  
"Remember what he told Harry in our third year? He said that if someone killed his parents he would get revenge." She didn't doubt that Malfoy had done some growing in that time, but if he hadn't it could be a lead to where he was at.

"You're looking for him?"

"There's not a listing of a new address?"

"No." He gripped the gate. "What's this about, Hermione? Is it about that damn book?"

"I can't destroy it..." Even as a quiet as she whispered it, it didn't take the sting away.

"Turn it over to the department -"

"It's my responsibility."

"It's not!"

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the moisture trickling out. "I can't fail."

Ron jerked her into his embrace so quickly and roughly it knocked the wind out of her. She buried her face into his chest and inhaled his woodsy scent. Like Harry's broom-polish aroma it was a mark of a friend, in Ron's case, a brother. It brought her comfort.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Liar

Hermione went home, the rain having chilled her. Straight to her bathroom, shedding her clothes on the way. She shivered as the air swept her skin, her teeth chattering, and she blasted the hot water. She sat in the tub, letting it melt her icy body, but not her heart. She curled up, and she cried for things she should have never done, the past she couldn't change. What no one knew...

She tried to rid the mental image of that manor. It was old, alone, and empty. The lack of life was sad. It was unexpected for her to feel that way about the place where one of her worst memories was born, but it was true. She felt bad. His parents were dead and his home was as well.

Hermione didn't have the strength to return to the book. Maybe Harry was right and she needed rest. With a clear mind she would go back to it in the morning, but when she woke hours before she had to she dressed and sat herself at her desk.

She thought about sending Malfoy a letter. After all, an owl would be able to find him wherever he was at. Somehow though, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Every time she dipped her quill into the bottle she left it there. The parchment was as clean as it was when she brought it out.

Adonis, her gray speckled owl hooted from his perch in the far corner. He was becoming quite impatient with her, his hoots getting shorter and more abrupt over the hour.

"I'm working on it," she told him gently, seeing him ruffle his feathers and settle down with a disgusted air.

There wasn't a worry to what she would write. It wasn't like she didn't have anything to say to him. She had a very important question. It wasn't personal, it was business. If that was all, then it shouldn't have been as hard as it was.

_Mr. Draco Malfoy,_

_Regarding the object that you placed in my possession_ -

She crumpled the paper up and threw it in the rubbage bin bringing out a new one.

_Mr. Draco Malfoy,_

_If you remember, on the third April you came into my office _-

_Mr. Draco Malfoy,_

_I apologize for the inconvenience _-

_Mr. Draco Malfoy,_

_I have attempted many spells and hexes -_

_Annoying Blond Ferret,_

_You're a git._

She hovered the quill over a new piece of paper, a single drop of black ink splattering it. A messy black dot stared at her temptingly. She stared back as though it would form the words she wanted. It didn't, of course, and once more she set her favored writing tool into its jar.

The sun peeked its rays over the horizon. It was Saturday, which meant that it was her day off. It also meant it was her day to cook breakfast for Harry, Ron, and Ginny.

She wasn't certain how the tradition started but it did, the four of them taking turns to cook a meal. Then there were the Sunday's at the Burrow. Once a month they met up with Neville, Luna, Dean and Seamus at one of their houses, each one bringing a dish.

And so Hermione wasn't surprised to see Harry, Ron, and Ginny downstairs in her kitchen. She said the same thing she always did walking straight over to the cooker pulling out ingredients from the shelf above. As all traditions went there was the sense of routine.

"Ron, get your feet off my table," she half-scolded as was a tradition in itself, but she froze when she saw that Ron's feet wasn't on the table. Ginny wasn't sitting on top of her counter but next to him, Harry at her other side. They didn't appear too terribly upset, they just sat there, all worriedly gazing at her.

She sat down the pepper she had picked up and stepped forward. "What is it?"

"Did you find Malfoy," Ron asked guardedly.

"No... I was going to send him an Owl, but... What is it? What's wrong?"

Ginny held up the Daily Prophet and Hermione closed the distance to see there, on the front page Malfoy's photo, his snide face glaring. It was the photo after his arrest, the one they took in Azkaban before Harry released him and his family for their change of allegiance. For one wild moment she thought he had been arrested again, but the headline above it read in large, bold words: "Wealthy Death Eater murdered in his home. Justice or tragedy?"

She snatched the paper from her holding it closer to her face. It didn't go away. She wasn't dreaming. It was there in black and white. It wasn't a mistake. It was real. The thin paper in her hands, the feel of it made it tangible.

Draco was dead. Gone. Murdered. It shouldn't have made the paper shake or blur. There shouldn't have been pain in her knees. She didn't understand.

Harry knelt in front of her and she realized then it was her that was shaking, her crying, and her knees that hit the tile floor. It was her that was losing it.

At that moment she knew of no greater anguish. She was being torn apart. A million pieces, like that ugly lamp. A Dementor could have been in the room, and it wouldn't have made a difference. The creature could suck out her soul; she would beg for it. She wanted something worse than death. It was agony in the purest form.

"Hermione," Harry asked, holding her shoulders. His fingers dug into her flesh, and she wished he would hold her tighter, cause bruises and pain. It could distract her from the fatal anguish that was a torrent inside of her. "Hermione?"

All she could think and say through her trembling body was, "ex-Death Eater. Re-print. _Ex_-Death Eater." It suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world. Everyone had to know. His legacy had to live on, and not for who he had been but for who he turned out to be. It _was_ the most important thing, at least in her world.

She stood and wrenched out a counter drawer. She took out the extra parchment she kept there, ripping it in the process, and the handy Muggle pen. She began writing a letter to the newspaper, but she had only written her first (sloppy) line when the pen was taken from her with such force that her hand was smacked down, smearing ink over her knuckles.

They all looked bewildered, glancing to one another in silent question. Harry held her pen, his hand an inch from her face as though he were going to touch her, but he dropped it. His mouth was a thin line, he was observing every blink, every shake, and she couldn't stop. She wished to scream at him to stop looking at her. Everyone stared, but it was his that burned her insides, because he was reading too much. It was like him to see things he shouldn't have. She never knew he would see the side she was throwing into the open, the one she tried to keep secret. She worked so hard...

"Please," she sobbed. "Stop. Stop this." She didn't know who she was speaking to, the Heavens or her friends. Her poor friends... They sat there, bewildered to dismayed.

None of them knew what to do because no one knew the truth. She never told anyone the truth... No one knew that Hermione Granger was a liar.

* * *

A/N: Draco's death is critical in this story, but I assure you, he remains an active part.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Payment

For the first time in her five years as a lawyer Hermione took time off of work. Everyday and every night would see her in her study pouring over the book. She integrated spells for more power, she did everything to taking a match to the bloody thing, but it didn't even singe it. She didn't expect it to. Malfoy did say that it was immune to all elements, but she had to try.

Everyone had come to check on her, each one more concerned than the last. Harry, all of the Weasley's, Neville, Luna, Dean and Seamus. Surely they thought she was losing her mind. Perhaps she was, but they couldn't understand why. They had no idea. The promise she made to Malfoy was not like any other promise. It was a promise that excelled all others.

He was dead and it was her fault. She should have found him, sent him an owl sooner, but it was too late. He was gone.

There wasn't to be a funeral. There wasn't a body; no one to give him a service. There was just a lot of his blood. She only knew that because she had read the paper. As hard as it was she had to know that it wasn't some sick joke. She had to know that it was true. The words made it as real as it could be.

Hermione, however, was far too logical to believe it was her fault for too long. She felt a slight reprieve in blaming Malfoy. He refused security, he walked out of her office. Did he fight back? Had he known what was happening? Of course he did.

_"It has to be you. You have to do this."_

_"Only you can help me."_

_"Why can't anyone follow in his footsteps?"_

_"I trust you."_

The last words he said to her was that he trusted her. Beyond all reasoning (she had many), she couldn't let him down. She would forgive him and do him the honor of his last noble request.

Again and again she worked, only leaving for necessity things like food and the bathroom. She slept on the floor of the study passing days as though they meant nothing.

Nine days had gone by when she woke with a pillow beneath her head and a blanket covering her feet to her shoulders. Her body ached (as it always had as of late), creaking as she sat up on the couch. That was odd, the floor had become her bed recently.

She saw that her dragon-hide gloves were gone from her hands, her wand placed on her desk with the box, all of her normal books stacked in order on her bookshelves.

A tiny vial filled with a purple potion waited on the floor under her with a note in Harry's spacey and jerky handwriting.

_Take this for the pain, then come to my house._

She smiled at his kindness and downed the vial in one gulp. She had pinched her nose against the taste but she cringed anyhow. It tasted like rotten vegetables.

She wondered if Harry set up a trap for her. A trap was probably the wrong word to use. A distraction, yes, that was it. A distraction from the book. The trap would be if they tried to uncover her reaction about Malfoy's death. She'd believe that. They had been unusually patient about it.

Hermione showered, gathering her manageable hair into a high ponytail, and went downstairs to Floo. She hated to do it, the ashes always smeared into her damp mane, but it was far preferable than disapparating when she could be straight into his house. Whatever it was that he wanted she wanted it over with.

From her fireplace to his, she landed smoothly into his lounge. She shook the dust off her clothes and hair, feeling a few specks staining her hair. It didn't matter, she decided. She wasn't going out and so who would care? Harry had seen her in worse states.

Every piece of furniture there was fairly new. It was a little sad, he would have to make new memories, none of them - not the couch, the bookcase, or the books sprawled about the glass coffee table had any significance. The only objects that held any meaning were the pictures on the wall. There were more of her than anyone else. She sighed softly as she observed it. It hadn't changed, after all those years...

"Hermione," he said in acknowledgement. He stood in front of the door to the kitchen, his hands deep in his jean pockets in an uncomfortable manner. He looked carefully her over as if she would break down again.

"I'm okay," she assured, smiling at him.

"Are you?"

"You want an explanation." It wasn't a question. "I'm not going to talk about it. All I'll say is that Malfoy turned out to be a good man. He tried to make up for the mistakes he had made. It's a shame." Her voice broke on the last word.

Harry crossed the room in three strides taking her into his arms. He stroked her hair and back, kissed her cheek. She held onto him with all of her strength, as if she would crumble if she let go. Who could have said? She may have done just that, but the scent of him that always calmed her provided her with no comfort, she could hardly breathe.

"It'll be okay. It will. I don't understand, but I'm here."

She knew that. Harry had never once left her, but he was right, he didn't understand, and he was wrong, nothing would ever be okay again. He had no idea, no one did. Hermione's story was a mystery.

His arm lowered, curling around her waist, his face concealing in her hair. She heard the inhaling of his breath. He was smelling her.

"Harry," she groaned, pulling away.

He released her, immediately stepping back. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"I think I should go."

"Please stay..."

She kept her eyes to the floor, to her gray and white sneakers. "Are you sure it's such a good idea?"

"Tell me why you're upset over someone we hated for all of our school days. Make me understand this."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"After all the crazy things I told you? You never doubted me - not really. Even if you thought it was illogical, you went with me anyhow. There's nothing that you can't tell me."

"I need to go back, the book -"

"Forget the bloody book," he yelled.

Steadily she looked up into his vivid green eyes. "I can't tell you, but lets say I owe something to him."

"What could you owe to Malfoy?!"

_My life._"A lot."

He stared about the room as if looking for something to throw.

"Harry, trust me, please."

He paused shortly, testing his frustration and how important it could be, before he nodded. "Okay, fine. After all we've been through I reckon I should trust you. You've never let me down before."

Blurredly she walked to the fireplace stepping with her hand in the bowl of powder as he spoke once more.

"Nothing has changed."

"You could be happier."

"Has your answer changed?"

Sighing, she threw the Floo powder into the grate. A puff of smoke and then a large emerald fire burst, crackling lively. "No."

"Then I'll continue waiting."

She vanished in the blaze the tears burning on her cheeks. She wished him better for an uncountable time.

***

When Hermione arrived home she didn't go upstairs to her room. She didn't work on the book. She laid on her couch, her arm a pillow beneath her head.

She shook with a chill. The May air crept through the crack in her window, the one George caused when he threw Teddy's small toy bludger. He had yet to fix it, so did she. Even with magical powers, even if they could fix it in a second, some things were left behind. She had been too busy with her career to worry about it.

She reached to the back of the couch but remembered little Victoire had used it as a cape, pretending to fly about the house. It was all thanks to Ron's Muggle movies influencing her, but aside, Fleur had taken it folding it neatly in Hermione's cupboard.

The party where all that had taken place two fortnights ago seemed to belong in another age. She was blissfully unaware that everything in her life would turn upside down. Nothing would be the same. All because of some ruddy book. All because of Malfoy.

For years she worked hard. She pushed pass the lies, she made a good life for herself. She had her friends, her career, everything she could want. If anyone knew the truths about her, she would lose it all. Her life would end, her reputation ruined. She wouldn't let that happen. she worked too hard for too long to let anyone crumble her.

Anyone but Malfoy... If anyone could do it, he could, and he was. She wondered if she deserved it. Of course she did.

Hermione rolled off the couch, no longer chilled, but quite warm. She could feel the heat in her cheeks at her silent omission, one that she avoided for so much of her life. she went through the kitchen, out to the garden. Breathing deeply she calmed herself. she had to, her act was falling. She had to pull herself together, or everything would be lost.

It was then, as she glanced up, that she saw the shadow of a bird against the starry sky. Closer it came until the brown barnyard owl perched himself on her arm. she recognized Harry's messenger, Adis, gripping his talons gently into her arm.

Once she took the scroll from his beak he took off with a thankful hoot. Apparently, he didn't want a reply.

The note read:

"_Shacklebolt wants to see us and Ron. Already sent him notice. Tomorrow at eight._

_I'm sorry."_

She tried counting every golden speck above her. She thought it was too bad she couldn't be up there with the stars. Was Malfoy? He had to be. He gave his life, his final choice, to save everyone else. That was why she owed him the favor he asked, that and all the times he gave her in the past, whether or not he'd tainted them.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Malfoy's Will

Harry and Ron were waiting for her in the hallway outside of Shacklebolt's office. They rose from their seats across from the double wide door and hugged her in turn. She felt Harry's carefulness, as if she would reprimand him, and she smiled to soothe any worries he had.

"He's running late," Ron informed of Kingsley.

"Why did he ask us to meet with him?"

Ron shrugged and Harry answered, "we don't know. He just asked to see us as soon as possible. He said that it was urgent. Important matters."

The hallway was empty aside from them, their voices sounded magnified. It was nearly claustrophobic. The Minister of Magic had the whole floor to himself. Shacklebolt was very much a people person. It was only expected for him to be away, mingling with everyone; he had a lot of things to do.

She chewed the inside of her cheek worriedly as they waited. She wondered, what could Shacklebolt possibly want? "You two didn't say anything about the book, did you? Tell me you didn't."

They both looked genuinely insulted.

"We would never!"

"How could you think that?!"

"I'm sorry," she apologized hurriedly, knowing her mistake right away. She should have never suspected her best friends to have bailed her out. "I'm... I'm just tired." It was a lame excuse, but it was true, she was exhausted. It was a great achievement for her to be on her feet at all.

Harry slid closer to her, his hand slowly going over her arm to rest on her waist. Though it was too near to crossing the line between friendship and something more, it was obvious that he meant only to help her, ready to catch her if she fell. She leaned into him thankfully not caring for the moment if he got the wrong impression.

Ron lifted his wrist for the time on his watch, but just then there was the increasingly loud echo of impending footsteps. She touched his hand, lowering it.

A large dark man approached them, his mouth wide in a bright grin, his voice deep. "Hello there, Mr Potter, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger. Please, come in." He tapped the knob of the door with his wand and let it swing open to a spacious room. He motioned for them to take the cushioned seats opposite of the cherry grained desk.

"I do apologize for my tardiness. I had an urgent appointment."

"That's alright," Hermione excused sitting up straight. "We weren't waiting long."

"Good." He sighed, his fingers linking as he became solemn. "This would normally be presented to you by Mr. Crumple. He deals with these affairs, but I wanted to be the one to give you these. I hope you don't mind."

"No, I'm sure we don't," Harry said. "What is it that you're giving us?"

"You are aware that Mr. Draco Malfoy is dead?" He didn't say the words with the caution someone would show of fear of offending someone. It was well known that they did not get along with the Malfoy's.

Hermione however, bowed her head and hoped that no one saw the cringe that she gave to the callousness that Shacklebolt showed.

"Yes, we saw that in the Daily Prophet," Harry replied.

"Are you aware that he left only you three in his will?"

They had all gone silent. A quill, as a feather was, could not be heard floating to the ground. She would have differed on that occasion. It was truly that quiet.

"N-n-no... _Us_?!" Harry waited for the punch line.

Ron's eyes were like saucers. "How much?" Always concerned about money, even when he was rich himself.

Hermione simply sat there until she realized she wasn't breathing. She scooted to the edge of her seat. It felt as though someone was sucking all of the oxygen from the room. She didn't know what to think. It was too surreal. What could Malfoy leave her?

Shacklebolt pulled out a drawer and extracted a paper. He read from it.

"'To the Weasel,'" he gave an apologetic look, "'my Mirror of Truth. It will give him insight he was too blind to see.'" He coughed, and from his fist to Ron's hand fell a small, silver mirror.

"Anti-climatic, the son-of-a- " Ron muttered, turning the mirror between his fingers before dropping it unceremoniously into the breast pocket of his shirt.

"'To the Scar-head: A watch. When you need the last five minutes. Don't blow it.'"

Harry accepted the small brass watch. It had no straps or anything to hook it on. There wasn't even numbers on the facing, just the one hand.

"'To the Mudblood...'" Shacklebolt took a pregnant pause to appraise her thoughtfully. She shifted uncomfortably. "'I give my wand, knowing she'll find better use, and...'" He set down the paper. "Mr. Malfoy has given everything to you."

"WHAT?!" Harry and Ron yelled.

Hermione swallowed dryly, her being on the fine line of either shaking terribly or being frozen forever. She couldn't even feel. It had to be what being in shock felt like. "Everything?"

"Yes, everything. His Manor, his house, his money. It all belongs to you. His words were, 'to everything I couldn't be, it is what I leave you, all that I have.'"

Harry and Ron stared at her in dismay. Shacklebolt seemed to have been waiting for a reaction himself.

"Okay," she said in monotone. "Thank you." Numbly she stood and walked out, barely registering that their eyes followed her.

Malfoy was the richest person in the Wizarding society of the United Kingdom. And she had inherited everything of his. When an enemy did such a thing as that, what was a person to think? He was indeed an enemy. There was no denying it after all they had been through, no matter how much she cared for him. And she did care for him, against ever fiber of her being, she did.

All that money... The Manor... His house... All of his belongings, except the two objects he gave to her two best friends. Why? He had his own friends, why didn't they receive anything? Why did Draco Malfoy leave all that he owned to the three people he despised more than anyone else? He had spent their whole school career trying to make their lives miserable. He attempted murder, he tortured people, he hated, and he fought against them.

Hermione judged herself for caring for such a despicable excuse for a wizard. No, that was not good enough. She judged herself for caring for such a despicable excuse for a _human being_. Why? Why didn't she ever stop herself?

Perhaps the most important question was why she felt like a widow...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Nott's Knot

The next morning Hermione woke with a strange sense of foreboding. She couldn't place why. It wasn't because a dead wizard was turning her life in to a pile of dragon's... She shook her mane out of her ponytail and stretched. With thoughts like that, that early in the morning it was apparent that she had been with Harry and Ron for too long.

While she readied herself for what lied ahead, her mind stuck on what she was dreading. The visit to Malfoy's house. Not the Manor, but the place where he died. One thing was for certain, she wasn't looking forward to it. She wondered morbidly if the blood had been cleaned.

Shacklebolt had sent her all of the information she needed from her newly acquired riches. She knew Malfoy had a lot of money, but her jaw had dropped at the exact number, but for the time being she was leaving the money in the Gringott's vault. She would make plans for it later. What couldn't wait was his house. She had to see it. There was no explanation of why, she just had to.

The foreboding preserved in her until she was downstairs. Then it became something new. It was her morning to cook breakfast.

Ron sat at the table with his feet propped up on it, fiddling with the mirror. Harry was perched on the counter where Ginny usually sat, inspecting the watch.

"I haven't had you two cook for me in three weeks. I think I should have this week off."

Ron guffawed, "we cooked, you weren't there. You were too busy with that book."

"I gave you fair notice that I wasn't going to be there," she argued, but as she argued she took out pots and pans, spinning dials on the cooker.

"Get your feet off the table, Ronald."

He huffed, but she could feel his smile. It was almost like normal. Almost. It would have been if they weren't tinkering with Malfoy's old things.

"It might be a joke," she told them. "Malfoy's last laugh." She knew it wasn't true, but it had to be said. It was something she would've said, right?

"I don't know, Hermione," Harry doubted as Ron sat the mirror down superstitiously as if it would blow. "He left you everything. All of his money, everything he owned, all of his families possessions belong to you now."

"I suppose..."

"Which reminds me, Kingsley said that though the wand belongs to you it wasn't found on his body. Seems as though the murderer took it."

Body... Murderer... She grimaced.

Harry noticed. "You still won't tell us?"

"No," she snarled.

"Okay," he shrugged, but his brows furrowed, and his movements became more rough with the watch. "What are you going to do with all of it?"

"I don't know... I could sell the property, give the money to charity." She honestly hadn't thought enough of it, not in light of what she was about to do.

Ron gasped in horror but Harry nodded. "That's a good idea."

She started boiling the water, heating the pan. "Can you take over?"

"Sure, but where are you going?"

"I have an appointment." She took her jacket from the kitchen chair as Harry took her place.

"You can't avoid cooking for us for long," Ron called at her back. He was responded by the door slamming.

***

Malfoy's house was nothing like she'd expected it to be. It was small on the bank of a private beach, which according to the paperwork Shacklebolt sent over belonged to her. The private beach wasn't the surprise, her shock weighed completely upon the one level, sky blue house.

When she came closer she saw that the green door was lying against the frame. Its hinges had been blown apart, black splotches marking the place of explosion. Carefully, she set it aside, withdrew her wand, and stepped inside.

The windows were gone, shattered, glass crunching under her sneakers. She could taste the salty air, the ocean louder due to the echoing. She stood in the empty room, the furniture gone - sold - burnt. She had been told the whole room was drenched in his blood. He had lost every drop, had to, it was too much. She tried not to think of that and it was hard, even if the place was haphazardly cleaned. She didn't spot any blood.

The glass glittered from the gold outside. By her foot she saw a portion of a colored piece, of silver and red. Carved into it were the words, "_trust your instincts_." She picked it up staring at the words that sprung tears and fresh heartache.

"What is it Draco," she asked softly to the void. "What did you try to tell me? Why didn't you just say it? Why did you always have to make everything difficult?"

_It was the beginning of Hermione's first year. In fact it was her first night in the castle that was Hogwarts._ _She had been told by Headmaster Dumbledore that the castle was quite large but she hadn't even imagined how glorious it was. She wasn't even ready for the beauty of the enchanted ceiling showing the night sky just as if it was really there in the Great Hall._

_By the old hat she had been sorted in Gryffindor House (just like she wanted, it was the best), and she was happily eating with the rest of her classmates. She chatted excitedly with an older student named Percy, but she couldn't give him all of her attention._

_The blond boy that was sitting at the Slytherin table was staring at her. She found it peculiar, because it was her, not Harry Potter, the famous wizard everyone was noticing. It wasn't a mistake though, his eyes smoldered into her own. It didn't make sense. She was ordinary._

_"Don't get interested in him," Percy said in a fake whisper._

_"Why?"_

_"Gryffindor's and Slytherin are rivals. And,_ _anyhow, he's a Malfoy, comes from a pure-blood family that detests Muggles and Muggle-born's alike."_

_She didn't want to be the annoying child that questioned everything. She preferred having the answers. Still, she didn't have all of them. She asked "why," again._

_"You are too young to know."_

_She glared but had not_ _abandoned the young Malfoy's stare, and he turned a light pink, looking quickly away. She wished he hadn't. He was the only one who seemed not to have been annoyed by her. Even __that plump boy Neville was awkward and began avoiding her. They hadn't even made it into the castle when he tried to hide in the crowd._

_Percy could've been wrong. Maybe Malfoy wasn't prejudice like his family. Why did there have to be rivals? There could be an understanding. She could befriend him._

_He glimpsed up and smiled. She smiled back. It was a start._

"Who are you?!"

Hermione spun. She didn't think, she yelled the first spell that came to her mind. There was a flash of yellow sparks and a loud crash as the person collided with the wall. She gradually approached the crumpled and still body, her wand steady.

Lying there, unconscious was a man. He had large ears poking through his average brown hair, his face stuck into a surprised leer. Theodore Nott.

She groaned at her luck. She just attacked Malfoy's best mate.

As gentle as she could she laid him flat on the floor. She made a pack of ice, the water from the ocean and a bit of magic to freeze it, and her sock to hold it. It was better than nothing and she didn't want to take him to St. Mungo's. She didn't want to answer any questions that would surely arise.

She waited approximately eight and a half minutes for him to wake. She slid the pack over his forehead as she waited. Beads of perspiration trickled into his hairline. She felt his head for a bump and breathed in relief when she felt one behind his ear. It was a good sign, he was going to be alright.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, but the moment they rested on her, he wasted no time glowering.

"You," he snarled.

She pressed the ice more firmly to his head in reminder that she hadn't left him, or worse murdered him. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect anyone to come here."

"Forgot Draco had friends, didn't you? Leaves every bloody Knut to you."

"If you want it, you can have it, Nott. Take it all. I don't care."

He touched her hand, taking the make-shift pack from her. With hesitant pace he sat himself up against the wall. "I don't want any of it. He gave it to you for a reason. I have twelve years worth of holiday gifts from him."

"Then why the attitude?"

"You bloody as hell hexed me!"

She bit the inside of her cheek in order to keep her lips in a thin line. It wasn't hard to do once she started questioning why he was there. She suspiciously eyed him. Friend or not, Malfoy was dead, and someone killed him.

"What," he demanded.

"Why are you here?"

"There was a picture I wanted from here, but I reckon it's been tossed too..."

"Do you know who killed him?"

He scowled. "If I did, wouldn't I have said something?"

"Would you?"

"Is this an interrogation?!"

"No, but -"

"I was his best mate! You know that better than anyone! You _know_ me, Granger! Look me in the eye and ask me if I killed him! And give me a fucking motive, I dare you!"

She was breathing harder, chewing her lip for whole other different reasons. She didn't want to cry in front of him, but she was, and furiously she wiped them away.

"Sorry." He sounded half sincere and half appalled, his tone considerably lower. He didn't do well with tears. "I know what he meant to you."

"That was six years ago!"

"And so you know, he never stopped feeling what he did."

It was nice, that he knew not to say that word, but coming near to it at all was more than uncomfortable... It was wrenching. It was too much. She didn't want to know all of that. None of it. "No," she said, barely noting that the word was spoken aloud.

"Granger -"

"He chose his side! He didn't want me!"

"He was doing what was best for you!"

"By fighting against us?!"

"By keeping you safe from his life! The Dark Lord threatened his family! If he found out that he was in love with the Potter's mudblood - Granger!"

She stood before he could finish the sentence. She ran out of the house, breathed in the salty air and disapparated. As everything disappeared in a whirlwind of color she thought of the house, clean from the massacre, the earnestness Nott showed, and the last burning look Malfoy had given her in her office.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Last Letter

The moment she was back home she broke into a sprint. She ran to her room so fast it sent Adonis into a frenzy, flapping his wings sending feathers everywhere. Hermione didn't stop, spitting out a feather that had flown into her mouth. She pulled out drawers, files, until she found the one piece of parchment she was looking for.

It was naturally crinkled after all the time she handled it, and she handled it then with as much care as she could due to her shaking hands. Tears were already falling, but she was bawling as she read her name in his writing.

_My Dear Hermione,_

_I've waited three years to tell you this, so please accept it for what it is: The truth. Every word I mean now and will always mean is the truth. I'm sorry I ever lied to you in the first place._

_I didn't want the life that I'd been given. If I could have changed my fate, I would have. I know what you'd say, you would say that I had that opportunity. You offered it loads of times. You pushed for it, but at what cost? Would it cost me my family? Would it have cost me you? I couldn't risk that._

_You know I only put part of myself into fighting that final battle, to make sure my family survived, but I was hoping the whole time that someone would kill me. I never deserved to live. I never deserved you but you kept me living, kept me fighting, just enough to see you make it through._

_If you won't forgive me, then please, do me one favor. I don't want our relationship to have an unhappy ending. One of us should be happy, and for that to happen you have to notice what's in front of you. For the brightest witch I'll shall ever know, you sure are blind to the obvious. There's someone for you. Someone better than me. Give him the love he's waited for, and the love you were afraid to give. I'm aware I didn't help your cause, but I'm selfish, and I wanted you. I still do, always will, for the rest of my days._

_I am truly sorry._

_Forever Yours, Draco Malfoy_

She touched the words he wrote, felt the indention's his quill made, pressed down by his hand. Drops fell on it, one by one, staining and luring the words. It darkened it.

Malfoy wrote it a year after the war. She cried then too, and placed it safely in her drawer, not looking at it again.

She held her wand under the corner and watched it catch fire. Lit in flames she dropped it in the rubbage bin before it could scorch her fingers. The heat from curling up from the rim scalded her legs but she watched the - his last one - letter die into cinders.

She had no need for it. She had the memories. She wanted nothing more to remind her of her betrayal...

_It was a secret Hermione would tell Harry if the time came. If she absolutely had to. Telling him the truth would be easy, it was explaining why she would ever try inventing a spell to fool the map when they had been sternly told that there wasn't a way to._

_In the dead of the night, past her time as Head Girl, she waited at the corner of the corridor from the Room of Requirement. she didn't have long to wait, she saw him within minutes of her arrival._

_Draco walked up to her, not a hint of surprise on his tired features. He'd been so worn lately that he lost his stagger and cockiness, and she thought it sad._

_"I can't tell you," he said instantly, a habit he came to have whenever he found her in the dead of the night. He knew what she was going to ask, she asked it every time, insisting. She was incredibly stubborn, but she was wearing._

_"Draco, we can help you."_

_"No, you can't. This is too dangerous, especially for you."_

_"I've been in danger before."_

_"Not because of me," he snapped. "I'm not Potter. I'll be damned if I bring you into this."_

_She sighed, feeling her heart breaking. She leaned on the stone wall. "This is too hard."_

_He brushed her arm. "Because of the map -"_

_"Not just because of the map."_

_He nodded as though he understood. "I wish I'd been born anyone else."_

_"If you were anyone else I wouldn't..." She didn't say the words. They never said them._

_Pressing himself against her he kissed her forehead. He held his lips there, his hands curled around her wrists. Then, he let her go. He left her._

_Hermione held onto the wall. She felt herself break in half._

She grabbed a fistful of her hair and pushed the memory out of her mind. She had to sleep. She had to forget. It was in the past. It meant nothing. He meant nothing.

Then, her mobile rung.

"Hermione? Hermione, dear?"

She held the phone away from her ear for a second startled at the screeching voice. "Mum? Are you okay? You sound frazzled."

Her mother sighed on the other line. "We're fine, your father and I, we're both fine, but our house was broken into."

"What?" She twisted her clock to see the time. "How? I have spells on your house!" How could anyone get through? It was nearly impossible. Did she miss something? Did she do a spell wrong? Was it all her fault?

"I don't know..."

"I'm coming there right now."

"No, no, dear, don't bother! All the way here to Australia? That's not necessary!"

When Hermione had gone to fetch her parents in Australia and re-modified their memories they decided to stay. She accepted their decision, never having been a large part in their everyday lives, and she brought everything else she had hidden to them. That included all of her childhood things. It was best with them, she had no use for them, and it would keep her in their thoughts.

"There's nothing you can do," her mother comforted. "We're going to stay at our dear neighbors until we have the police investigate. Nothing was stolen so it's pointless to file anything... All the same, I'd like to know we're secured. When you come here for Christmas, would you mind doing the spells again? I'd feel better having you do them."

"Sure, mum, of course I will."

"We're both alright, you get some shut eye. I'm sorry I called so late, but it's..." Her mother let out a broken sob. "It's scary."

"Mum, are you sure -"

"Yes, I'm sure. Get some sleep. I love you."

"I love you too..." She slid her mobile closed.

Someone got through her spells. She knew what her friends would say, that it wasn't possibly her fault. There was no way that her spells could have been penetrated, but it was possible. She wasn't perfect... But if they were as secured as she made certain they are, then who was powerful enough to break through them? And what did they want?

Her parents were safe from this person, or of no interest. They left them alive and unharmed. It was her they were after, she knew. Who?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

An Old Friend

Hermione returned to work. The book was grating on her last nerve and she had to leave, to focus on anything else, and her parents strictly forbade her to go and help them. It was typical, having to do everything themselves.

Her boss was of course exasperated with her. He worried frequently that all the cases she took on would one day lead to a meltdown. She on the other hand insisted that he was overreacting, but she didn't dare utter that he was wrong, no matter if he was. As far as she was concerned it could only help her.

A man sat across from her in the chair she couldn't help but remember Malfoy sitting in. It was the last day she saw him... He was right there, close enough to touch. She had _talked_ with him.

She wouldn't allow herself to go any further into those thoughts, she had to concentrate on her client. This man was dark, good looking, and very familiar. For the life of her, she wasn't able to put a name to him. It was no matter, she would ask him, and ask her assistant yet again to write legibly.

"I'm sorry, sir, but what is your name?"

"Antonio Carr, ma'am, please, call me Tony." He glinted mysteriously, as if she was missing out on a joke.

She shifted, slightly at an unease with the sudden forwardness. "Okay, Tony, how may I help you?

"A date," he gave her a perfectly white smile.

She gulped down her gasp, her papers crinkling in her hands. "That is quite inappropriate."

"I apologize, I don't mean to come off so rash. You're right, quite inappropriate and not very gentlemanly. I was hoping that you'd remember me."

So she did know him. "You look familiar... Should I know you?"

"Hermione, it's me, Tony. Don't you recognize me? Your friend? We were ten when I moved away?"

Her eyes widened and her heart leapt. Tony, little Tony from her childhood. He had lived right down the road from her. "Tony?!"

He nodded happily and they stood to hug each other. "What are you doing here," she asked.

"Thought I was a Muggle? Nope, Muggle-born, like you!"

It was too good to be true. Her old best friend, a wizard. "Why didn't I see you at Hogwarts?"

He raised his brows suggestively. "Moved away," he formed the words slowly, teasingly.

She couldn't resist, she hugged him again. He grew to be rather tall and she stood on the tips of her toes to reach her arms around his neck. "I'm glad you found me! We have a lot of catching up to do!"

"I know most about you. One third of the Golden Trio and all."

She chuckled modestly. "Then you must come over this Sunday, tell me everything that's been going on."

"That will take a while."

"I've got time."

He kissed her cheek, her face burning from the contact. "Sounds like a date."

As Tony winked and walked out she touched the spot where his lips had touched. Since when had he ever kissed anyone's cheek? He used to be so shy.

Something was off... He didn't act like the Tony she knew. It was like he was someone else entirely. What were the odds of him being a wizard anyhow? Two children from the same neighborhood...

She decided that she was being ridiculous. People were bound to change. Certainly she couldn't expect him to remain the ten-year-old boy she knew. That would be unreasonable.

However, that nagging feeling that something was wrong didn't go away. For the rest of the day she calculated the chances of her parents house getting broken into and an old friend being a wizard. Add Malfoy's death and the Horcrux book, and the chances lowered. It wasn't good... Was it likely that they were all linked?

The war was over. She shouldn't have been worrying anymore, reading into things the way Harry used to. Five years had passed and yet she felt as though she were back at Hogwarts hoping to make it through the year... In her case, it lasted after the war as well.

She thought back to a few years ago, at a charity convention...

_Neon blue and green streamers draped the ceiling and the fireplaces in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. People swayed about in elaborate gowns and tuxedos. The music echoed around them, a steady beat, a serene voice that only merpeople were capable of._

_Her friends were lost in the dancing and chatting. She sat at the bar, her head hung low. Her silky hair created a curtain from the rest of the world._

_Hermione didn't drink. Fire Whiskey burned her throat and made her head spin. That night though, she thrived on those things when she saw the man she despised. For everything that caused her pain she downed a shot glass. One for the way he looked, his blond hair, his long fingers, his pale skin. One for his gleaming smile. One for his walk absent of his usual stagger. One for his deep laugh. One for the way he stared at her. One for her broken heart._

She wished she had the Fire Whiskey George gave her in congratulations for her job. She wished she hadn't given it to Harry instead.

***

Hermione reclined on the couch leafing through the multiple folders she brought home from work. She looked over each case, made notes, considered sending a few to a co-worker. She had learned form her school days not to take on so much, but she still had trouble with it. She cared too much to make herself pass them on.

She stared at the folder. She must have been tired, her mind drifting from it to her old friend. Tony, though he physically appeared to be the same was different. The chances of his timing were too coincidental. How could she question his motives, from her childhood friend? Was she cruel to do so?

In thanks to her wild imaginings of him in a black robe and bone mask she jumped when there was an abrupt knock on her door. It was a single knock that vibrated and struck the fear that constricted in her chest. Every instinct on guard, she sent the papers away with a flick of her wand and went to the door.

On her toes she peered out through the peep hole. She nearly gasped at who was standing there.

Hastily she slid back the latch and opened the door to Nott.

"Hey," he said tiredly, not a hint of a smile.

"How's your head," she asked, not knowing _what_ to ask, not after the way she behaved.

He smiled sardonically. "Better. You still pack a wallop, Granger."

She didn't know what possessed her. Everything was backwards, not trusting Tony but trusting Nott? Malfoy did... It was as good an excuse as any. She stepped aside to let him enter. "Come in."

"Thank you," he said politely, but only walked in far enough that she could shut the door. He hovered by the coat rack.

"What can I do for you?"

"You left so suddenly that I didn't have time to give you what is now rightfully yours. Two weeks before his..." he closed his eyes as if in pain, but it was only a second, and in that second she felt a great deal of sympathy for him. How hard it had to be for him.

She lifted a hand to comfort him but retracted it instantly. She couldn't comfort him, not when the last thing he would've wanted as a "Mudblood's" sympathy and solace. She couldn't even bring herself to apologize, or say anything at all.

"He gave this to me to give to you. He wanted you to know. There's something else with it too." He dipped into his gray cloak and withdrew a folded bit of parchment and taped to it was a clear vial filled with what looked like silver smoke. It was memories...

"Why," she asked, astounded.

"Only one person knows why, and he's not here. Take them."

Awkwardly she held them. She bit her lip and begged herself not to cry .She looked up to thank him but just as she did the door was closing. She caught a glimpse of Nott's hand and his back, his head bowed as if facing a great gust of wind.

It was overwhelming. Even past his grave Malfoy was aiding her. Why? Wouldn't it have served more purpose if he hadn't died? He could've been there with her answering her questions. Why did he have to die?  
She never knew the human heart could hold so much love and contempt before. There was always something new to learn, and she used to love that fact. Not anymore...

Hermione couldn't afford to feel anymore sadness at Malfoy's passing. It was an impossible task, but she was still very angry with him. So she thought of the bittersweet memory she held of her own.

_She strained to listen. Harry was deathly quiet, but Ron was screaming on the verge of sobbing. She shook to think of what would happen to them. It was illogical, she was the one that was going to be tortured, but if something happened to them... Her best friends... Her world._

_Malfoy was ordered to take her, and his gentle manner surprised her. His hands weren't as rough as they could have been. He kept her close to his body. She thought of how many times she'd been that close, but all of them were for such different reasons._

_She was sat in a chair and ropes wrapped themselves around her wrists, chaffing her. It would be the least she would feel, she knew._

_Malfoy's lips brushed her ear and she heard his words. "I'm sorry. Be strong."_

_It was those words and the fury she felt at them that kept her going. It was the only thing that kept her lies firm. It kept her alive. She thought of all the ways she would injure him if she had the chance. All the things she would have told him. None of them being out of justice. There was only one thing she would have done, only one thing she would've said and they never said it, an unspoken word._

_

* * *

_A/N: If you like my writing I highly suggest that you check out my homepage (a blog). On it you will find more of my writings, as well as excerpts from FF's to come.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Harry's Hope

It was eleven at night, but she couldn't wait for an appropriate time. The vial was burning in her hand, the letter tempting. She wasn't ready for another letter and so she ripped it from the vial and laid it aside.

Dressed in her burgundy cloak she took the Floo to Harry's. She didn't send an Owl of warning, she was too anxious to receive a response. She just hoped he didn't have company, then she would feel rude.

Halfway down the hallway to his bedroom she collided with him, his hands a grip on her arms to keep her steady and upright. He looked surprised, his brows raised questioningly, but there was something else too... He was pleased.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you, but I need to use your pensive. If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't, I've never minded before. You're not taking on too much again, are you?"

"No, no, I"m not." That was a lie and they both knew it.

He sighed and released her. It was then that she realized he didn't have a shirt on. She gazed over his scars, one in particular she lingered on. The round one on his chest where she severed Voldemort's locket from. The others were less significant to her. He had so many, but that one she caused by her own wand. She hated to do it, to see him bleed. It was necessary.

"Hermione - "

"Sorry,"she muttered quickly, embarrassed, moving past him to his bedroom, not once meeting his eyes. He didn't follow her.

It was a simple room, done in bright colors of blue and green. He hated dark rooms. It wasn't as a large as he thought it was, once his bed and wardrobe were in, it appeared significantly smaller, and so she placed a grand mirror on his closet door. Dean had come by and painted a realistic mural of a window overlooking a colorful garden.

She saw the picture on top of the blue wardrobe. Beside the Quidditch pitch, Ron was jokingly aiming a Quaffle at Harry's head. Harry, however, was too busy looking down at Hermione who hugged his waist, not minding the sweat and grime after his winning match against Ravenclaw. They were sixteen in that photo. Fred had taken it. None of them knew... Blissfully unaware... Fred would die the following year, they wouldn't return for the seventh year (except for her, two years later).

She tore her gaze away and went inside the walk-in closet. On a stone table was a basin. She closed the door behind her and uncorked the vial. She poured the contents in, the swirling smoke filling it like water.

Then, she dived.

_Hermione stood out on the grounds of Hogwarts. She could see the vestige of the Whomping Willow in the darkness, and her late cat Crookshanks leaping bounds through the tall grass, his bushy orange tail flicking side to side. There was a slight aching for him,she missed him, he had passed on in his sleep years ago. She was sure though, that he was not what Malfoy wanted her to see, so she looked elsewhere._

_At the bottom of one of the towers was a shadow. She crept closer and made out the unmistakable white-blond hair and thin figure. Malfoy. He leaned on the stones, his arms crossed impatiently with his overly-expensive broom was propped up beside him._

_It all was very real, as though anytime he was going to see her there. It hurt her, physically pained her deep down that he didn't. She was close to him, as close as anyone could come to a memory, and she couldn't feel him. He was so alive then but soon she would have to return to reality where he was no longer living._

_Two more people came around the side, and he kicked off, his sneer menacing. .He approached his burly goons, Crabb and Goyle._

_"I've been waiting for ten minutes Where have you two idiots been?"_

_Crabb stumbled for words and Goyle scratched his head in contemplation. Finally, Crabb spoke, "we, um, ran into, Granger."_

_"And," Malfoy snapped._

_"Um, she tried to send us off to our dorms, but, um, Theodore showed up."_

_"Theo? What happened?"_

_"He hexed her and told us to move along," Goyle said gruffly albeit slowly._

_She knew when the memory was.. It was their sixth year._

_Malfoy shrugged in an uncaring way, but there was worry there. "Fine. He'll take care of her."_

_Nott _did_ take care of her. She remembered his apologizes and warnings to stay out of the corridors late at night, that was when she woke up. She hadn't told anyone about that. Even Malfoy had apologized later the next night._

_"Want our help?"  
_

_"No, stay here and keep a look-out!" He seized his broom and swung a leg over, kicking off into the air._

_The scene faded only a moment, bringing her into a dark room. She saw herself lying on the floor, Nott over her body. Malfoy flew in through the open window wearing the same green robe._

_"She's fine, Draco," Nott said dryly._

_He dropped his broom and came to kneel beside her. He checked the pulse on her wrist. "Are you sure?"  
_

_"I cast the hex, yes, I'm sure."_

_He felt her forehead, and put a finger under her nose to inspect that she was still breathing._

_Nott looked on worriedly. "You care too much for her, mate."_

_"I know."_

_"This can't end well."_

_"I _know_, Theo."_

_"You didn't get the ingredients you needed, did you? For the -"_

_"Shhh," he hushed._

_"She's not awake."_

_"Don't talk about it."_

_"Oh, no, don't tell me you're feeling guilty? I heard that you were bragging on the train this year, how can you feel guilt now? You're so close. Don't mess this up now."_

_He picked up her hand, feeling her fingers. "She could die."_

_"She's not going to die -"_

_"I didn't mean tonight..."_

_"She's a Mudblood. Potter's friend. She should die."_

_Malfoy bowed his head, his chin to his chest. "She's beautiful. Mine. She shouldn't."_

_"You know she might."_

_"Not if I can help it."_

_"You can't protect her!"_

_"I have to!"_

_"Then let her go. Let Potter and Weasley protect her. The best thing you can do is let her go. She'll be safer when she's not with you. Imagine if someone found out, they'd all think you were traitors. You wouldn't be accepted on either side, and you'd die. The Dark Lord will kill you for your treachery and you know it!"_

_"Better me than her..."_

_"You know I'm right."_

_"I know. I'll have to let her go. But Nott, you don't fool me."_

_"What?" He was genuinely confused._

_"I know you care for her. Promise me, if the day comes that I can't be there for her, if I can't protect her, that you will. However you can. Promise me."_

_His face screwed up in resentment. "I promise."_

The empty classroom fell away and she fell backwards, toppling into Harry's bedroom. She cringed at the pain the wooden floor brought to her back. Harry stood above her, already kneeling to help her up.

"What did you see?"

She moved out of his hold, too uncomfortable. He still wasn't wearing a shirt. "A friend."

He peeked into the basin and she whipped out her wand. The memory went up in a puff of smoke. He jerked his head to her, hurt and curiosity crossing his features in turn.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled again. "It was personal." Personal indeed. It wasn't something that he could possibly be ready to see. She wasn't ready to have seen it... She strolled to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"Stay here. You must be tired."

"No, I need to go home. Think things over..."

"What is there to think over?" He trailed her out into the hallway.

"Everything."

He grabbed her hand pulling her to a stop in the lounge. "Please, Hermione. Stay."

With hesitation and regret she slipped out of his hold. "I can't. I am sorry, Harry. I... I just can't."

She took the fireplace home, her sights to her sneakers so she wouldn't have to see his heartbroken face. She was tired of hurting him. She was tired of everything.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

You See, I Knew

_Everything you are,_

_Sweet orchids and books._

_I hate you._

_Everything that I am,_

_Musk and brooms._

_Only few know how I truly love you,_

_How much I hate myself.._

_I can't change my duty._

_You can't change yours._

_We all know fire and ice can't co-exist._

_The night and day don't mix._

_I can't be with you._

_That kills._

_Kill me._

_The day I die for you,_

_Forgive me._

_My last breath,_

_My last second,_

_Will be to honor you._

On her bed late at night after a fitful fight with the book, Hermione wept as she read Malfoy's pages, blotting them. They were crinkled and nearly useless as she held them in her quivering hands. Her nose stung and burned, her lungs ached with excess use. She felt like she was dying slowly, lack of water and too many powerful emotions that were suffocating her. Could anyone survive such intensity?

She never knew Malfoy wrote. One of the many things she didn't seem to know. What else had he hid from her?

Roughly, she turned to read the journal entry he wrote on the next page:

_"I'm a Mudblood, Malfoy, you hate them," she said simply and she started walking away._

_I couldn't speak. She was right. I did hate them, but not enough for I can't hate her. That was where she was wrong. I could never hate Hermione even if I tried - and I have tried. Even at that moment I took a perverse pride in her being wrong._

_She was almost out of the aisle of bookshelves we were in. It was the place, I cornered her, you see. She was beautiful, on her tip-toes attempting to reach a thick book. I took it off the shelves for her. Her blush was beautiful, it masked her whole face._

_I stood and watched her leave me. That image of her leaving me, it would forever haunt me. I knew that. In my minds eyes I could see myself as an old man, my last vision being of her. Walking away from me. I had to stop her._

_"Granger," I called softly, and breathed again when she faced me. The curious, gorgeous look she wore almost made me lose my thought, but I held on. _

_"Um," was all I the brilliance I was able to say._

_"Malfoy, come out with it." My name was a curse in her mouth, but I liked it. She ironically used it with more care than anyone else did._

_I came up to her and she didn't flinch or protest in any way, not even when I lightly touched her cinnamon hair. That encouraged me. The glitch in my ability form words was fixed and I told her what I always wanted to._

_"Forgive me," I said, "for everything I've done wrong. Despise my family, my linage, my destiny, and despise me if you will. I don't blame you. I don't like me either." I twirled her bushy hair around my pale finger. I loved how it looked, her hair against my skin. "But if you'll hate me, hate me for loving you. That has to be the most horrible thing I've done. It has nothing to do with your blood, Hermione. You're too good for me, but I can't stop feeling this way. I have to try. When you have nothing, you'll do anything."_

_Unexpectedly she touched my lips, the tips of her fingers feeling over them. It was as if she was trying to feel the sincerity of my words, because she couldn't believe it. I find her quite easy to read. For the first time in the four years I've known her, she had her guard down. If I thought she was lovely before, it was nothing compared to then._

_The way she speaks, the way she moves, everything draws me. I wanted her but now, I need her. She keeps my heart beating, she keeps the hope alive that one day we'll all find peace. She made me strive for it. There's nothing in the world that I want more than to leave everything that I am to be who I am with her. Bloody hell, let me tell you, that man is a lot better._

_"Show me your arm."_

_I knew what she wanted. I doubled checked our surroundings to make certain we were alone. Then, I pulled up my left sleeve. There in plain sight was my Dark Mark, the skull and snake, the sign of a Death Eater. I covered it quickly when she went to touch._

_"Is this a trick," she asked._

_"If it were I'd have had you by now. I can perform leglimency. You would've known."_

_She sighed, and I could see her coming out with countless reasons to doubt me._

_"Hermione..." The name was sweet, and all I wanted was to say that to the world. "I do... You know I do. I know you do too." Then I kissed her. Within that kiss I felt her dissolve._

_You see, I knew it. She loves me too._

She had thought - or more truthfully - convinced herself to believe that it was all a lie. It was easier to hate Malfoy that way. If he lied about everything, especially his feelings for her, then she could loathe him in peace. The way she was supposed to.

She'd done a lot of things wrong. She was known to follow the rules when all she did was break them. Over and over she thought about her mistakes. It was Malfoy's fault, she decided. He was always the center of her problems, and even while he laid six feet under he was making her feel guilty for how she lived her life. If anyone should have been alive, feeling guilty, it should have been him.

Malfoy should have never died.

Throwing the papers into the rubbage bin she stood and went to her bathroom. She silently thanked Nott and cursed him at the same time. What business was it of his? Why couldn't he let her go on with her life? Why was he bringing up such terrible recollections of her past? It was an accident that they met again. Just an accident and he wouldn't leave her alone.

She peered at herself in the mirror over the sink. She was terrible in appearance. Her eyes were bloodshot, shadows underneath. She was pallid and tired. She looked ages older than what she was. Finally, everything got to her, finally her outside showed what was on the inside. There was nothing she could hide then.

"Great," she muttered, "bring me to my death too."

It was ironic. The journal entry, compared to the memory she had of her second day of Hogwarts...

_In the library Malfoy bent over a parchment, his quill scratching across the surface. He bit his lower lip, his hair in his stormy gray eyes. Hermione smiled, and sat opposite of him, letting her books fall with more force than necessary so her presence would be known._

_Malfoy glimpsed up and back down quickly. She noted that his cheeks were faintly pink._

_Disappointment gripped her, but under that was an irritation that he could be so rude. "Draco Malfoy, is it?"_

_He nodded._

_"My name is Hermione Granger."_

_"Who cares," he said in a clipped tone._

_"I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."_

_"Yet here you are. You're an annoying little Mudblood aren't you?"_

_She was confused. "Mudblood?"_

_He laughed coldly but there was a discomposure etched into his features. "Go away, you aren't fit to be at my table."_

_She didn't understand the odd word he called her, but it was obvious it wasn't good. She picked up her books and with her eyes filled with tears, she walked away. She could've sworn she felt him looking after her, but she didn't look back to find out._

_

* * *

_A/N: I am aware that not many people write that way in their journals. However, I have met some that did put it in that story-like form so please, don't pass it off.

This is a chapter purely dedicated to Hermione's wreckage, memories, a quiet time alone she had with herself.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Sleep-Deprived

Hermione didn't sleep. She wrote out solutions to her cases and tried new spells on the Horcrux book. She had hexed the thing even. Nothing happened. Nothing ever happened. It would never die. She had to start thinking of a safe place for it, someplace no one would ever find it.

Without slowing she cleaned. Her house was spotless by dawn in time before she went into work. It was the weekend, a Sunday, but she didn't care. She dropped off her cases to her sectary and walked away without an explanation. She didn't go into her office, she went straight to Harry's. She knew he was working on finding more information on Malfoy's death, he was working tirelessly too.

She heard her mousy secretary call after her and she didn't stop. After three years she should know what to do with the folders. She didn't have the patience while she felt so disconnected.

Everything was a blur, she felt numb, and heavy. There was no telling what she looked like. Must have been worse than the night before. She felt worse, but at least she wasn't feeling.

She knew the way to the Auror's department so well that in her sleep-deprived state she made it right outside of his door. She bumped into nearly twenty people on her way. She barely listened to the complaints. She was too focused on walking straight, on keeping her eyes open.

She knocked twice and thought she heard the words "come in," but she couldn't be sure, she had instantly dazed off in the second she waited. She welcomed herself in anyway.

The moment Harry saw her he leapt out of his seat behind his desk. He said her name, among worries, and led her over to the desirable couch in the corner. She was right, she must have looked as bad as she felt.

She could've slept. If she leaned she could've lied down and closed her eyes. She didn't. What she came to discuss was too important.

"Haven't you slept," he sighed.

"No," she answered after a moment's pause. She wasn't sure if she fell asleep then, but she shook her head to rid of the fog. "Um, I need to talk with you about hiding the book. It needs to be somewhere completely safe, Harry. Where no one can reach it."

"You're giving up?"

Tears flooded her at his question, the words, "giving up." She never gave up. But she was. She was doing exactly that. Then a horrible thought came to her. If she wasn't who she pretended to be for all those years, who was she? What was left of her? The lies and betrayal? Was that who she became?

"I -I can't d-do it!" She pulled at her tresses maddeningly as she bent forward. "It w-won't d-die!"

He rubbed her back. "Let me have it. I'll work on it for a while. If I can't destroy it I'll give it to Ron. We'll find a way."

"And if we can't?"

"Then we'll make it impossible to reach. We'll figure this out, Hermione."

A surge of gratitude filled her and she threw herself on him. She hugged his neck, weeping into his shoulder. He held her quite tightly but she didn't mind. She was safe, while Harry was with her, she was safe.

"I love you."

He exhaled a trembling breath. "I love you too." He kissed her hair. "I really do love you."

"I'm tired..."

"Sleep."

"So much to do..."

"No, go to sleep, love. You need rest."

Despite the feeble protests that she was trying to give she felt herself being lowered, and weight being shifted. Not being able to open her eyes to see she felt that he was leaving her. She gripped his arm desperately. She couldn't explain why, but she didn't want to be alone, and at the same time to ask him not to call her "love". "Stay, please," she begged instead.

"Really?"

"Please."

"Okay, okay. I'm here." the weight returned, his body next to hers. He stroked her hair, the knots tugging themselves free.

She slept. She was safe. Safe from the book, the letters, Malfoy's death, Theo's sudden appearances, safe from the chance that another war would come. Nothing could happen to them. It was over.

_"Please, don't do this," she begged Malfoy in their empty classroom, the stars shining out of the arched windows._

_"Didn't you see the Mark, Hermione? I have no choice. He'll kill my family."_

_"We'll find a way."_

_"You promised."_

_"Please, Draco -"_

_"It's not easy... Doing something like this on your own. I wanted you to know, to stay far away tomorrow."_

_"You're going to leave me?"  
_

_"Do me a favor, remember tonight the way we are. Not as a Slytherin and Gryffindor,, or a pure-blood and Muggle-born, but as us. I want you to remember me this way, no matter what I will be made to do."_

_She laid her head on his chest, his heart sped up at her contact. She held him close, feeling his nose in her hair. "You'll always be Draco to me."_

_"One more thing."_

_"Anything."_

_"Don't think for once in your life that I don't care for you," he declared, staying away from the words they never said. "I will... For all of my wretched life."_

_"I will always too. No matter what."_

_"My final breath will be to you and anything we could have had."_

_"Don't talk that way, we'll be fine. We have to be."_

_He pressed his lips to her forehead. "I do, Hermione."_

***

"Hermione? Hermione. Your mobile is ringing."

Groggily she woke, Harry a blur before she blinked and wiped her eyes. She hadn't noticed before, working in a stupor; he didn't look well himself. He too, had bloodshot eyes, his hair sticking up much more than usual, and he looked thinner. She almost reached out to see if she could feel his ribcage. It was like he was back to living with the Dursely's.

It sent a pang through her. Not only did her promise with Malfoy had her killing herself, but Harry as well.

He was holding out her phone, it ringing shrilly. How she slept through that she couldn't imagine. She took it from him, and saw on the caller i.d. that it was Tony. Her heart jumped in her throat, for what reason she didn't know.

Hurriedly she slid it open. "Hello?" Her voice was horridly scratchy. She coughed lightly to clear it.

"Hermione! Where are you at?"

"What do you mean?"

"We were supposed to have dinner today. I'm outside your house now. I've been worried."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Tony!" Next to her Harry perked up, listening closer. "I forgot all about that. I had to see a friend," she saw out of the corner of her eye that Harry darkened. "I'm so sorry, I'll be there soon."

"I'll be waiting."

She had hardly clicked the phone shut when Harry asked, "who's Tony?"

"An old friend."

"I've never heard you talk about him."

"From my childhood. It turns out he's a wizard." She didn't want to talk about him. Harry was looking as though she had cheated on him and it irritated her. It wasn't the time. "I have to go. Thank you, for everything."

He nodded but appeared to be deep in thought and she took that distraction to kiss his cheek and leave. On her way to the lifts she ran her fingers through her mane and cupped her hand over her mouth to sniff her breath. Everything was okay. Once she was home she would put on a pot of coffee. That would keep her alert.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Trusting A Slytherin

Just as he said, Tony was waiting out on her front porch. He didn't hold a book or any such recreational material. She guessed that he was a very patient man, and she felt worse for keeping him waiting. Still, she couldn't help but remember when he was younger, how impatient he was then, how his leg would bob up and down, a furious glare to the world.

When she was in front of him she started apologizing again. "Tony, I'm sorry -"

He waved his hand, "no need. It was worth the wait."

She wasn't sure what that meant but it made her blush. She fumbled with her key to let them in.

It was lucky that although she forgot about their dinner, she had cleaned. At least in her insomnia proved a purpose. There was not a speck of dust to be spotted.

"Make yourself at home," she welcomed as she led him into the kitchen.

"You have a lovely house."

"Thank you. Take a seat and I'll get dinner started."

As she bustled about they caught up. She learned everything about him. His parents died long ago in a car accident, him being raised by his aunt. That made her sad, as she thought about how sweet and welcoming his parents were. They had made them fresh lemonade from their own garden where Hermione frequently helped.

He had a good job as a book-keeper in a Muggle library. They talked of the trips they'd both taken, their friends and school, their careers. They talked all the way through dinner and while he helped her wash the dishes, playfully popping a lemon-scented soap bubbled that landed on her nose.

That irking feeling remained. Her mind screamed that he was a good man, an old friend. Why did she feel as though she needed her wand in hand? The ringing of her mobile made her jump a good foot.

Drying her hands on the dishtowel she took it from her pocket. On the i.d. she saw that it was Harry. "I have to take this." It could've been news on Malfoy's case.

"Go on, I'll finish up here."

She smiled in thanks and slipped out to the lounge for privacy. She answered, not wanting to take too long. Tony had insisted on assisting her, she didn't want him to finish up alone.

"Hello?"

"Hermione, I did a little research on your friend Tony."

She felt herself burn. "You did what?!"

"Before you take my head, listen! Tony Carr doesn't exist in the wizard database. He's a fake! I have Ron on alert, he's on his way, so am I. Stay there!"

"Harry, he's lived with his Muggle aunt, he works in a Muggle library, maybe he faded out of the database. It's happened before, when a wizard doesn't' use his wand for a -"

"Hermione, I know about all that! You don't have to tell me! Isn't it better to be safe?"

"The war's over!"

"This isn't abut a war!"

"You're being ridiculous. There's nothing bad about him."

"Wa -"

She shut her phone, irritated. He was clearly trying to help; his intentions were good, but he had overstepped his place. Hermione was an adult, the war was over. She didn't need to be protected. She could take care of herself.

Most of all, she didn't want to be wrong. Sure, Tony seemed different, but everyone changed especially after all they had been through. It was normal, expected. She _wasn't _wrong.

She turned to go back to the kitchen, but she halted, her heart stopped. Stupidly she froze, just like her insides.

Tony stood as a barrier in front of the door, a twisted grin over his lips, his wand pointed directly at her. He cocked his head to the side as if he was simply amused. "You made this far too easy."

"Tony -"

"My name isn't Tony. I'm not your little _mudblood _friend." He said the words with menace, though it was Tony's voice it didn't sound like him.

Her hand itched for her wand in her back pocket hidden under her shirt, but he "tsked" at her.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you. I have a head start here."

He was right. She had to keep him talking until she came up with a way to escape or someone came to save her. Would Harry come after her anger? She couldn't blame him if he didn't.

"Who are you?"

"One day you'll find that out." He was gleeful, his fingers loose on his wand. He wasn't frightened in the least. "First, I want the Horcrux book that I know is in your possession."

"I don't have it," she lied too quickly.

"Don't make me hurt you," he said in mock representation of being put-out. "I'll leave you unharmed. I don't want a fight."

She looked to the fireplace without thinking.

"You let me in. I've set up wards against everyone. Your Gryffindor friends aren't coming to save you."

If she could duck and run maybe she would be able to get the Floo powder and escape. She didn't know who he was, she had never seen him fire a spell. She didn't know if she could be quick enough.

"What about her Slytherin one," a different voice suddenly asked.

Hermione squeaked in surprise and both her and whoever was impersonating Tony, spun to the front door.

Nott leaned casually on the frame holding his wand and a small clip. "Know your enemy, mate. Those wards you chose don't work on Muggles." He waved the clip that he apparently used to unlock the door. With the roaring in her ears it was no wonder that she didn't hear it.

"Think you're going to stop me? You're a bloody traitor!"

"That's correct. On both accounts."

Tony gripped his wand tighter. "Go away, Theodore. This is none of your business. I won't hurt you. I'll share the book even."

"They say those who bargain know they can't win." Nott glimpsed to her. "Run, Granger."

She didn't waste any time. She threw herself sideways on to the floor as sparks exploded above her. They cracked like lightening, bursting like fireworks.

She crawled to the hallway before she stood and ran. She looked back only once, Nott and Tony immersed in green and gold lights, their arms swinging madly. She kept running until she made it to her study. There was one thing on her mind; she must get to the book.

Hermione knocked six books to the floor, crash after crash by her feet, wrenching out the box they revealed. Hurriedly she stuffed it into the pocket inside of her robes, continuing to listen to the racket in her lounge. She could hear the sound of breaking glass and wood, the yells and grunts of effort.

She seized her wand out of her belt loop, preparing to go and help when the banging became louder and louder. Then, the two dueling men barged into the room.

"Nott," she called, "get out of the way!"

He did as she commanded, and for a second only Tony and her eyes met. In that second she marveled at her blindness. It was shameful that she couldn't see the coldness before.

"Expelliarmus! Levicorpus!"

Tony's wand flew from his grasp and landed with a clatter somewhere in the corner. In the next moment he was hoisted into the air by his ankle, dangling there helplessly. He yelled, his face red from outrage.

Nott grinned. "Way to go, Granger! Now, put him down - don't be gentle, mind you. Lets go."

"I can hold this," she told him. "Go get Harry and Ron."

"These are powerful wards. You can't hold him there that long." He fetched Tony's wand. "We have more important things to do. Come on!"

She ignored him.

"Granger! Trust me."

Trust. Trusting a Slytherin, trusting Nott, an ex-Death Eater. Malfoy's best friend. "Okay," she agreed. She had trusted him thus far, why not keep going? Keep going until she was as dead as Malfoy.

Just as she was about draw the spell back though, something happened to Tony. His hair was turning darker, his body wider and bigger. He was changing in front of her eyes. She gasped as the Polyjuice Potion wore off and reveled the real man.

It was the last person she'd ever expect... How? It was impossible! Even in her mind she was stuttering to make sense of it.

Hermione dropped him, his head making a sickening crack. She ran after Nott, leaving the shrieking man behind. Through the hallway to the lounge.

Nott dumped the rest of the powder (half a pot full) into the fireplace. It was too much and the flames nearly exploded, reaching out of the hearth to lick the mantle. He leapt in seizing her hand and pulling her with him. Her mobile slipped out of her pocket and broke, the little pieces flying.

* * *

A/N: Any guesses as to who the man is? I'd love to hear them!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Ron Reformed

In a room above the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione reeled. She sat on one of the two beds, her nose tickling from the stirred dust. She nervously twirled her hair, biting her lip. She tried not to yell, but the longer she glared at Nott, the more composure she lost. How could he look so calm? He was standing against the wall, his arms folded over his chest, idly staring up at the ceiling.

At last, she lost it. She got to her feet, prepared to rant, but all she could do was yell, "Goyle?!"

He nodded, not taking his sights away from the dirty ceiling.

"Goyle?! How? He's been so stupid for years!"

"He's been smarter than us all."

That seemed unlikely. It was Goyle. He did look as dumb as he was. "For twelve years he's put on an act of stupidity? That can't be right."

"He was raised this way. In the same way me and Draco were raised to be Death Eaters, Gregory was raised in lies. His intelligence... How do you suppose he passed all of his exams?"

"I thought he cheated..."

"Granger, I know this all is a shock for you."

He was comforting her! Those years she thought things were one way and suddenly they weren't. No one told her. She didn't pay enough attention. She pointed an accusing finger at him. "You knew about it!"

"I suspected, yes."

She shook from rage. "And you didn't tell anyone?" If he had brought light to who Goyle really was then it all could've been avoided. They wouldn't be there after a duel over a dangerous object. She came to one conclusion in her fury. "You let Draco die!"

His eyes sprung open, a surpassing anger smoldering them. "No," he shouted stomping in front of her. He was so close they were nearly touching the soles of their shoes, their noses a hair-widths away. She flinched but he carried on.

"All I knew was that Goyle was smart! That's hardly a crime, if it was, you'd be the first in Azkaban. I had no idea Draco would be killed! I'd never risk that! How dare you, you absurd mudblood! He was my best friend!"

Tears poured, her chest heaving with the effort to keep breathing. She collapsed on top of the bed, her head in her hands. It was all messed up.

The mattress dipped on her left, and Nott's arm wrapped over her shoulders. I understand you're sad," he said softly, "but don't ever blame me for his death."

"I'm sorry," she cried thickly. "I am."

"I am too."

Perplexed, she lowered her shield looking up at him through the stream coating her face. "Why?"

"I will kill Goyle, and I regret tonight not being the night I could do so. We have to destroy that book first."

"How?"

"I'm not sure..."

"We need to go see Harry and Ron."

"Fine," he agreed cuttingly. "I'll send them an Owl. They can meet us here." He stood and at the old rickety desk he pulled out aged paper and began writing, the feather waving.

She observed the muscles in his arms, tensing, his long fingers curled around the quill. He was tall, lean, but strong. His sandy brown hair, like caramel, was curly, almost reaching his chin. He was... Handsome. He was a good man. She had a little proof other than Malfoy's true friendship with him...

_Hermione and Draco sat across from each other in one of the empty classrooms on the seventh floor. He wouldn't allow her to go into the dungeons past nightfall. His excuse was that if he was caught with her by Gryffindors the result would be a bad hex. If she was caught by Slytherin's they would do much worse._

_From inside of her robes she took out a small package decorated in shiny green wrapping. She placed it on his lap. "Happy sixteenth birthday, Draco."_

_"My birthday was in June."_

_"I know, but we can't be together in the summer. What did you expect? Me to mail it? Not with your parents on the watch. Open it up."_

_He tore off the paper and flipped the lid off the black box. He lifted a small silver and red top, balancing it in his hand. "A Sneakoscope. Um, thanks, Hermione." He tried to smile but it was a horrid grimace that hurt her feelings. Just a little._

_"I know you probably have a drawer full of them, but this one is special."_

_"I don't mean to be rude, but how?"_

_She laughed, "since when have you ever cared about being rude?"_

_"Have I ever been rude to you in private?"_

_"No."_

_"There you have it then. I have respect for you. Anyhow, how is this thing different?"_

_She turned the object so the light fell over the inscription she had made. _"'Trust your instincts, my love.'"

_"Hermione -"_

_She interrupted before he could start. "We're not discussing this again, I know. Just... I want you to be safe."_

_He kissed her. "Thank you."_

That gift gave a high pitched shriek around most of the Slytherin's. He said that while he was alone he dropped it into a bag, but as he did so Nott had intruded. The thing remained silent.

"You protected me in Hogwarts, didn't you?"

He paused. "Because Draco asked me."

They both knew that she was aware of that. "You didn't have to."

"No, I didn't," he contested with venom. "You had plenty of people looking after you. Draco was too watchful. You were too smart. Too..." He changed course. "You didn't need us."

She smiled. "Obviously, I did. You took care of me. I can take care of myself, certainly, but I've had enough close calls to know that..." She didn't want to discuss her hideous mistakes. "I guess I'm grateful that you cared."

"Out of obligation."

She still smiled. "It doesn't matter." Obligation or not, there was a piece of Nott that did care. He could have told Malfoy no, he could have refused. If he was such a terrible person, he would have hurt her. He had plenty of chances. He could have sided with Goyle that day.

***

Nott and Hermione chose a table concealed in the darkest corner. It was also the grimiest, but the privacy was worth it. Nevertheless, when their drinks arrived she dampened her napkin from the perspiration that formed on the glass and began wiping the table.

Nott grinned, amused. "We have magic."

"The light will cast on our faces," she explained eying a huddled group of hags a few tables from them.

"I've always admired you."

"Why's that?"

"You take everything in such stride. Your friends,, responsibility, Draco, and now... This. You didn't have to do this, whatever Draco told you. This didn't have to be your fight."

She waded the napkin pushing it to the wall. "I owe a lot to Malfoy."

"For keeping you safe."

"For caring about me and not my blood."

Suddenly, he took her chin, the intimate contact shocking her as well as his timing. It was out of nowhere, but he didn't slow. He pulled her face to his, and nearly instantly she lost herself in the honey streaks of his eyes, the slight green circling his pupils. He had the oddest color of anyone she'd ever seen. She blinked furiously to clear her head.

"Hermione," he spoke carefully. "He did care about your blood. It mattered to him most because it was the reason he couldn't be with you. Don't doubt that he didn't love you. He risked everything for you, and he gave his life so another war could be prevented. Do _not _dishonor his memory by thinking he wasn't foolishly in love with you. He was."

Her bottom lip trembled, the words pouring out before she could stop them. She had to let him know for some obscure reason. "I just wished... I wish he knew I loved him too."

"He knew."

"How? I - I stopped calling him by his name." Curse her, she didn't think it.

"You don't have to speak his given name. He knew because you accepted the book."

"For our world..."

"You didn't turn him in. He was as smart. He knew."

The door of the pub opened and in stepped Hermione's two best friends. Nott let her go while - as directed in the letter - Harry and Ron came over to them, the darkest part of the room, and slid into the booth.

She shook her head, the fuzziness that was caused by being near Nott's lips. She placed her hands flat on the table, not caring that it was sticky, she had to hold on to something, to keep her mind straight. She couldn't allow Harry and Ron further suspicions about her and the Slytherins.

Harry started off the meeting. "We didn't catch Goyle. Took a while to get inside the house. What I don't understand is why you didn't stun him."

Nott leaned forward. "I've known Goyle for years. If we captured him we would never find out how to destroy the book."

"He knows how?"

"I think he could have an idea, but no amount of torturing is going to get the answer out of him."

"So what do we do," asked Ron. "Keep playing this game with him?"

"I have an idea," Hermione suggested. "Let me be the bait, I'll talk with him, see what I can learn."

"No," they all spat in unison.

"I'm perfectly capable -"

"No," Nott repeated. "You aren't doing it, end of discussion."

She glowered, but as their eyes met again, she understood. It was simple. He was continuing to keep his promise to Malfoy. He was upholding his dedication to protect her. She swallowed the lump that caught in her throat with difficulty.

Harry, in a much gentler tone, said, "there are other solutions."

"Like me," Ron piped up. "He needs lackey's, doesn't he? Pure-bloods. I'll pretend to have reformed."

Nott rolled his eyes. "A blood traitor reform? You could never pass that off."

"I could to!"

"Mature," he muttered. "You're Potter's friend, you fought in the war with him, you helped end the Dark Lord -"

"Stop calling him that!"

"You won't be able to pull it off."

"Then you do it! You were a Death Eater!"

"I just fought him. I won't do, none of us will. All I know is that Goyle will come back for the book, and he will go after Granger for revenge. She'll need protecting."

"I'll do it," Harry volunteered at once.

"You'll be too busy running leads. I - fortunately - live off of my inheritance. I'll look after her."

"Over my dead body you will," Ron argued.

Hermione hushed him, casting quick glances around, but no one seemed to have heard that outburst. None of the burly hags had stirred from their conversation.

"Imperturbable wall," Nott answered her actions. "I figured Weasley here couldn't be quiet."

"You want to watch her? Fine, but you'll have to make an Unbreakable Vow."

"Ron," she gasped, appalled. "That won't be necessary. Nott has proven himself loyal."

"You _want_ to stay with a Death Eater?"

"_Ex_ Death Eater. I trust him. I'm not a child, Ronald, I don't need a babysitter -"

"That isn't what this is about!"

Harry slammed his hand down, the sounding crash making them all jump. "Enough," he shouted. "It's decided. Hermione will stay with Nott, Ron you'll work with me tracking Goyle." He pointed a threatening finger at Nott, much like Hermione did earlier. "Be warned. I will be checking on her, and if I get my hints or any suspicion that you're hurting her, you'll wish you were with Malfoy."

Steadily, Nott nodded, undisturbed by the threats. "Point taken, Potter. She'll be safe. I swear."

Harry glared for a few seconds longer before lowering his hand. "We'll be by to see you to a safe place in the morning. We're staying next door for tonight. Unless, Hermione, you'd like to stay with us? I could sleep on the floor."

She would never know why she said what she did. "No, I'll stay in the room we have."

"I think it would be better if you stayed with us."

"And let a bed go to waste? Don't worry, Harry. I'll be fine."

He sighed and stood readying to leave but Ron hung behind appraising Nott thoughtfully.

"Why did you save her today? How did you know?"

Harry hesitated, listening curiously.

It was something that Hermione hadn't considered, not with all that happened. She trusted Nott without question. She placed her fate in his hands that day, and she didn't bat an eye to it.

"Coincidence. I had something to deliver to her, from Malfoy."

"That would be...?"

"None of your business."

"And the reason you saved her," Ron pressed, his face burning red diminishing the amount of visible freckles.

"I _am_ reformed. I saw her in trouble through the window. Would you have preferred that I left her?"

They didn't answer, silently leaving in defeat. Hermione watched their hesitance until finally they turned and walked away. Not soon enough they were gone from view, up the staircase.

She twisted in her seat to face her new friend. "Is it true? Did you have something to give me from Malfoy?"

"Yes... But..." He leaned forward, nearly as close as they were before, and she fought to lean back. "You'll have to trust my story in how I came to have it. Can you trust me again?"

There wasn't a second thought, there never was. "Yes."

* * *

A/N: Thank you for all of your guesses! I got great joy out of them, very interesting.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Malfoy's Mistake

How backwards things were... Putting her life in the hands of someone she once fought against. Five years later she was fighting with him.

Nott sat on the bed across from her. He began by telling her how him and Malfoy became friends. Malfoy, the boy who was groomed to follow in his father's footsteps, who had his side of the world placed on his shoulders wore it with pride and worry. He wanted to be a Death Eater - until that is he went to Hogwarts and saw that his lineage had been wrong.

Nott knew it from the beginning. He despised his father for being who he was, and despised his mother for serving him like a house-elf. He was determined to break out of it, but he formed a kinship with Draco when they were younger. Like her and Ron following after Harry in his mission, Nott followed Malfoy.

Unlike his perfect timing at her house, Nott did not have the same luck with Malfoy. Contrarily, he arrived there in time to witness his death. He saw the blinding flash of green light and his friend's body lying sprawled onto the floor. It took him an hour to get through the wards, and when he was inside the murderer was gone and Malfoy was beyond recognition, everything coated in blood.

Being the vivid storyteller he was, his lovely eyes glazed to the past as he told of the sloshing sound that his sneakers made in the puddles. His was monotoned through it all, not feeling his words. Finally, he was done.

"Are you ill, Granger? You're a pitiful color."

"I'm okay," she assured, but as she went to touch her forehead she saw that her hand was trembling.

Nott frowned. "Didn't know you had a weak stomach. How did you get through the war?"

"It's not the detail." It was Malfoy. She didn't want the image of his murder, but she felt compelled to listen. Nott wanted it told and she had to leaned an ear. It was the least she owed to him.

"I understand," he said, his normal pitch back. "But that's how I came to have his wand."

"You have it?" When was she going to stop being surprised?

He reached to his backside withdrawing a perfectly smooth wand. "Hawthorne, ten inches, unicorn hair. It's clean."

She accepted it gently. It was as smooth as it looked. There wasn't one knot or splinter, and it was indeed clean. It shined in the light from the iron brackets.

"Have Potter and Weasley figured out how to use their inheritance?"

"No," she said fingering the wand. Malfoy's wand.

"They still don't know who you are?"

"I'm Hermione. They know that."

"No, they don't. They know you as Hermione the know-it-all-bookworm. They know you as a Gryffindor, as their friend. They don't know you as Hermione, the sneaky should-be-Slytherin who had an affair with their enemy. They know none of your secrets."

"You mean they don't know I'm a liar."

"You didn't lie, Granger. You have secrets like all of us. You deceived everyone, but you did it for your and Draco's safety."

She shook her head sadly. She couldn't be allowed to feel better about what she did. She had no right. "Don't sugar-coat it."

He snorted. "You would have made an interesting Slytherin."

"I'm Muggle-born. Being a Slytherin requires valuing blood-lines."

"And Draco did? Do I?"

She laughed sarcastically. "You two have called me mudblood more times to count."

"For Draco it was a matter of keeping the secret. For me... It's a habit, that's all." He touched her cheek, stroking his fingertips to her jaw. "If I cared about blood-lines I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't touch you or fight so hard to keep you alive."

"Out of obligation," she said with her remaining breath, her eyes sliding close of their own accord. She was starting to become accustomed to the feel of him. More than accustomed, she was enjoying it, the softness of it. It was comfortable, him touching her, and as she touched his cheek in return, the burning desire for him growing How wrong was it that she enjoyed it the way she did?

She knew that answer. It was incredibly wrong. He was Malfoy's best mate, her old enemy. What was wrong with her? Why did she have to keep falling for men that she shouldn't?

His hand fell and her eyes opened. They returned to reality, and she shyly gazed down at the wand. "His last spell. We should find out what it was."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"I think so too."

They smiled briefly at one another and she took her wand to align the ends. She whispered the incantation and like a wisp of smoke between them was an image of tiny jagged pieces. The pieces came together to form a plain mug, and then, it disappeared. She laid the wands aside.

"His last spell was to fix a mug... He didn't defend himself..."

Nott slid his hand in hers, as though it was the most natural thing to do. "He knew his time was limited."

"How could he?"

"When Goyle came by his manor for brunch, he snuck away to search the library. That's how Draco knew he saw the book. He realized that it was too dangerous. Goyle might not have been the only one to have seen it. He came to you with the book, he changed his will, and Goyle found all of this out through connections from the Ministry."

The pieces fell into a clear picture, the events leading to where they were making sense. It was easy, but the end result would be more than difficult. "I meant.. How could he let himself die?"

He laughed shortly, her head snapping up incredulously. "You're trying very hard to look for a reason for his death. First it was a stranger, then me, Goyle, then me again, and now he killed himself? Goyle murdered him, he died to protect all of us. You're not going to get a better reason." He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

"He could have fought. He - He..." She cried a choked cried, and bent double to hold her heart inside of her chest. It felt like it would burst.

Nott scooted beside her and held her, held her together. He kissed her hair, and she froze, her tears running down her neck, her form shaking. He kissed her hair?

"Hermione," he sighed.

"Theo?"

His forehead rested on top of her head. "I'm in as much pain as you, but that's the wonderful thing. We'll heal each other."

"Out of indebtedness?"

"Out of care. Curse me with any curse, I do care for you. Not a debt."

She moved to her knees and hugged him around his neck. She sobbed into his shoulder, the smell of his clean soap filling her. "I care for you too."

He held her waist, kissing her cheek. "You know where this will lead, don't you? You know what happens when two people heal each other."

For someone that was in a romantic tragedy, she wasn't much of a romantic, but she was a woman. A logical woman at that, and she knew what their future could hold. She could see them, holding each other up, hand in hand, facing the cruel world, fighting together for the rest of their lives.

She didn't want it. It was a disgrace to Malfoy's memory, of their memories. Though she had everything of his, those memories were the most precious to her. She moved out of Nott's embrace.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed." She stood and began to pull down the blankets. She didn't look at him.

Theo stood beside her. "Hermione, he'd be okay with it. He had his hopes for you, but he'd want you to be happy. That's what love is."

She spun on him. "What do you know about love?"

He said nothing for a minute, his eyes glazing over again, then he shrugged. "Nothing. I know nothing of it. The only love I saw was between you two. It was the most powerful thing I ever witnessed."

_And looked what happened,_ she thought. _He went off to be a Death Eater, he got himself killed, and now I'm mourning for a man I never truly had._ "We have to ignore any feelings that may result in our situation."

"I'm just as skilled a liar as Draco."

"What does that mean?"

His lips pursed, he hissed out the following sentence that floored her. "You weren't an obligation. Draco knew I liked you."

When a minute passed without a comment on her part, he brought out his wand and with a flick he submerged them in darkness. She heard the squeaking of the mattress from his side of the room.

Without thinking, she felt her way to the door. She walked three steps to her right, and knocked.

In his gray boxers, Harry answered. He was shoving on his round glasses blinking at her. "Hermione," he yawned, "are you okay?"

She was still crying, streams, rivers; she could fill an empty pool. She tackled him around his middle and he stumbled a little from the force, but he held her tightly, his heart hammering against his rib cage. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, I just... Changed my mind."

He didn't ask further questions even if he knew she was avoiding the answer. He patiently led her in guiding her to the bed. Covering her with the blankets he laid beside her. He combed her hair with his fingers. "Hermione -"

"I can't tell don't ask."

She drowned in the silence that followed, and she welcomed the sweet sleep that took her in its waves.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Be A Gryffindor

In the morning before the sun had even rose Harry went to Theo's room to use his Owl. He said that he had to send a message to the Ministry informing them that he wouldn't be in. Not that anyone would have cared. He was Harry Potter, he never had to work a day in his life if he didn't want to. It was one of those times that she felt a swell of pride of him. He grew up well.

After brushing her teeth with her finger and an old tube of toothpaste she came out to see Ron was perched on the end of his bed fiddling with the mirror. Hermione sat next to him running her tongue over her teeth, feeling the grittiness.

"What is with this damn thing?" He showed her the mirror flipping it over carelessly. "You know it doesn't even show a reflection? It's useless."

"It's a spell, Ron, what do you expect?"

"Why couldn't he tell us what it does?"

"In case it fell into the wrong hands." Eyes itching, brain a slushy mess, she could answer his annoyed questions without thought. It wasn't like she hadn't slept, she slept very well, but when Harry had moved off the bed she woke as if she'd never been asleep. It was as if her mind had been working over what Nott said last night while her conscious rested and despite that she hadn't found out a solution or how she truly felt about it. She knew she was flattered, she knew that she was attracted to him. But hadn't she done enough harm?

"Can't believe Goyle is behind this. He was a troll."

She held out her hand. "Let me see it."

Once he gave it to her she began prodding it with her wand. She did several spells, but like the infuriating book it did nothing. She returned it to him with plummeting hopes.

Ron was right. Malfoy could have told them, have done something other than let his old lackey murder him in his own home... It was odd that she was able to think so bluntly about his death, but she couldn't bring herself to think his first name.

"Hermione," he gasped. "Something's happening!"

Quickly they both hovered over the object, it shaking in Ron's hands. She held his to steady it. Like breath to glass, a thick fog covered it.

"It responds to touch," she said excitedly, her mind clearing instantly at the new development, and the elation that they were doing what Malfoy meant for them to.

The center was wiped away in a neat circle by an unseen hand, and instead of seeing a reflection it revealed a scene. And not any scene at that...

"No," she exhaled.

In the mirror was her, only younger with her school robes on. Draco had her against the wall by her hips, his lips on hers. He positioned himself between her legs, and she wrapped one around his. They intertwined, one person, as he lifted her up pulling her neckline down, latching onto her collarbone. There was no sound, but she could hear the moans and declarations of lust.

She didn't know how long it lasted, the make-out session from years ago. It felt like many sunlit days, but when it did end, the fog overpowering the scene and disappearing she wanted it back. Not only to put off the retribution she was about to receive, but because it was a scene she kept close to her. She revisited that memory many times, from that night in their fifth year and forward she dreamt of how he felt pressed against her, his tongue caressing over hers. The memory was a ghost, barely felt and cold. She felt hot just watching it, the memory clearer than ever.

Slowly, Ron peered up, his cobalt blue eyes shining into hers. "It's a lie, this thing is faulty. You didn't... Tell me you didn't do that, Hermione."

"I'm sorry," she croaked.

"No. It's wrong."

"It was years ago. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but it did happen."

"No - "

"Ron -"

He threw the mirror into the corner behind him. She didn't see whether or not it broke, there was a roaring in her ears. "You're a LIAR! A TRAITOR!"

She backed away, she kept walking until she felt her back hit the opposing wall. She nodded. "Yes."

"You filthy little liar! All these years! Malfoy?! How could you not tell us! How could you do that! MALFOY?!"

The door burst open, Harry and Nott pushing and shoving to get inside, their wands raised. Harry lowered his seeing that it was only Ron that was making the racket, but Nott kept his pointed at him.

"So you finally know the truth, eh, Weasley?"

"What truth," Harry asked observing Ron's scarlet face and Hermione's still form.

Ron ignored him. "How long, you whore?!"

"RON," Harry exclaimed aghast.

Purple fire shot out of Nott's wand his face a dangerous glaze, but Ron ducking and sending his own spell at him to which Nott casted aside easily. Ron didn't attempt to send another hex, he spun on her again.

"How long?!"

"Since our fourth year," she responded, too stunned to care, too tired and guilty to truly fight. "We stopped seeing each other in our sixth."

Harry rose his brows. "Who?"

Nott grinned from ear to ear. "Draco." Everyone turned to him as he took center stage, he appeared uncomfortable, his shoulders hunched over, but he spoke with pleasure. "Hermione and Draco had an affair for years."

"That's a lie," Harry spat. "Hermione would never -"

"I did," she screamed, pushing off from the wall to stand next to Nott, all eyes turning on her. "I did! We met secretly. Harry, I overrode the Marauders Map, I marred your property, I betrayed you and Ron, everyone. My whole House! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Ron shook his head as he stormed out, his feet angry beats on the creaking floor, slamming the door behind him. Chunks of plaster and dust fell from the ceiling, coating their hair and shoulders in white. However, no one moved, the sun rising to shine in the room, bringing life.

"Who are you?"

"I - I'm your friend. Harry, pl-please. I'm Hermione."

Nott mumbled, "should've been in Slytherin." They ignored him for his little jab meant to calm the atmosphere. It did no good.

"I don't know you," he said scathingly.

"Harry, please -"

He waved his hand for silence as he started to walk out, but Nott lunged for the door before he got there. It was impressive for Harry had amazing reflexes, he was the youngest Seeker.

Harry jabbed his wand in his gut. "Let me pass."

Nott, being several inches taller towered over him, paying no mind that he was close to being hexed. "If you wont listen to her, listen to me, Potter. Hermione didn't go out to betray anyone. She was - is in love with Draco. He loved her too. He made a lot of mistakes, but he protected her. He enlisted me to look after her even. He did everything to keep her out of harms way while he had to do what he was born to do. You couldn't escape your fate and neither could he. They had to keep it secret, for everyone's sakes."

"Get out of my way, Nott," he repeated.

With a seconds wavering he stepped aside, Harry forcefully thrusting past him.

The truth was out. Her secrets known, and because of it, she was alone. The men that had been like her brothers for most of her life were gone. She knew it, she wouldn't be accepted, not when they learned of the real her.

"I'm alone," she murmured, barely acknowledging that she said it aloud. She fell to her knees, her head in her hands as her sobs broke out harder than ever. Could one die of tears? Could one die of heartache?

Nott strolled over kneeling in front of her, the fragrance of his soap stronger than ever, his robes pressed neatly. He had taken a shower then, she realized his hair was wet, drops running down his cheekbones. "You're never alone. You never have been and you won't ever be. Haven't I been proof of that enough?"

She chuckled in a crushed sounding way. It seemed bizarre considering that she just lost two of her best friends, but Nott's presence calmed her, his hand on her knee burning through her jeans.

"What d-do we do n-now?"

"I have a place we can go. It's safe."

"B-but Harry and Ron -"

"Left. It's us now. Come on, get up, Granger. Be a Gryffindor."

_"Weasley will be fine. Promfrey can mend anything."_

_She folded into herself closer to the wall replaying what Harry told that day, of Ron's poisoning. On his birthday too... After their fight... She spent the whole day hoping that he knew she was there. She read somewhere that even comatose patients could feel the presence of their visitors. She hoped that was true. A book hadn't proved her wrong yet._

_"Hermione, it'll be okay."_

_She shook her head up at Draco who bent over her. It was the dead of the night, and her worry and anxiety over Ron almost made her late to their usual meeting. She had gone down the wrong hallway twice._

_"I know.... But he's so pale... Helpless..."_

_"Come on, get up, Hermione. Be a Gryffindor."_

"Get up, Granger. Use that Gryffindor courage."

She gazed at Nott's outstretched hand, darker than Malfoy's, but as soft and kind. She took it and let him pull her to her feet.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

In Solitude

There was a small wooden house a mile into the woods. It was the same woods that Harry, Ron, and her once hid in while they searched for Horcruxes, but they never came by this house. Vines twined their way up the sides like snakes, the grass overgrown, little flowers of yellow and purple. It was a quaint, quiet place. Right away, she adored it. It reminded her of the cottage that her and her parents used to stay in on their vacation to Scotland. Except theirs was better taken care of, but as far as she was concerned then, it added to the character.

"Who's the owner?" She half expected him to say himself.

Out of nowhere he asked, "do you still believe in House unity."

Before she could answer a dark man with a wand in his grip stepped out. He raised a scarred brow. Though his whole body appeared to be marred (a particular deep gash set into the crook of his neck) she recognized him at once.

"Blaise Zabini?!"

Zabini nodded and motioned them forward through the door. Inside it was neat, tidy, with limited room, much like Malfoy's. It had a small bed, a wardrobe beside it, a speckled gray counter, sink, and a fridge. The door to their left was ajar and she saw shadows of a bathroom. It was so plain that it was almost painful, but there was a sweet smell, like freshly baked pies.

Their host was silent as he went over to his table and chair in the center of the room. He sat down and began writing, acting as if they weren't there. It was insulting but being that he was gracious enough to allow them to stay, she did the polite thing.

"Thank you for this," she said, but he didn't look up. As she moved to go closer (for what, she didn't know) Nott grasped her arm.

"He's deaf, Hermione."

Zabini didn't raise his head. He continued working, his eyes squinted on his project. He didn't hear them.

Nott went on. "At the final battle an explosion took place beside him. He lost his hearing."

"Why doesn't he sign?"

"Never learned... He took it hard, Blaise did. He stayed here in solitude, cut off from everyone else. He can read lips though, very well, but I reckon he picked that up somewhere else."

Zabini stood and handed Hermione the slip of parchment he'd been scratching on. His face was straight and serious, not a sense of welcoming coming from him, and when she read what he wrote her feelings became confirmed.

_Granger, don't dirty the house with your mudblood germs. I'm only doing this for Theo._

Her face turned pink with indignation and she shoved the parchment into his chest. "No problem." She spun on her heel and went over to the corner. It was the only safe place she felt she could stay with her "mudblood germs."

She once did believe in House unity, but she wasn't so sure anymore. Slytherin's weren't ever conformable towards the idea. Perhaps Harry and Ron were right, and it was a dream to let go. She had a lot of them, and though with her choice career she felt she hadn't done a lot of good. Not as much as she had wanted, she was once more doing an Auror's job.

Nott snatched the paper from Zabini giving it a once-over. "Can't behave yourself, can you?"

Zabini grinned.

"Lie on the bed, Granger, get some rest. We're going to be here for a while."

"Write Potter," she ordered bossily. It made her smile a little thinking of how she used to boss Harry and Ron around when they were younger, in the simpler times of their lives. If she had to be honest she never stopped bossing them around. "Let them know I'm alright, they'll be worried." She hoped so at least.

"Sure," he sat against the far wall adding, "but bugger them if they're not."

She bowed her head as she smiled. She lied down on the bed, it sinking considerably. She curled the pillow under her and watched through the curtain of her hair.

Nott rested a parchment against his knee writing what appeared to be a quick note. Zabini stared right at her, as if observing every facet of her. She lowered her eyes to the floor below, but as she did a hole caught her attention. It was the right size for a finger. She reached down, to see if it lifted up, but the chair scraped loudly against the floor and she froze. Zabini had stood glaring at her plenty hard for her to retract.

Nott glimpsed up. "That's for emergency."

"Why?"

"I think he got hit with a boulder too," he joked and a closed ink bottle flew at him, him ducking just in time for it to bounce off the wall.

Zabini and him grinned at each other and started laughing. It was boisterous and easily she was joining in. She held her stomach happy tears stinging her eyes as the lovely sound vibrated off the walls returning to them. She forgot what they were laughing about or for, but they kept on.

Then a sound crashed outside and the happy noise ceased.

Hermione stood, feeling for Malfoy's wand. "What was that?"

Nott and Zabini stood as well, their wands out. Nott peered out of the window.

"Don't know. How many wards did you set on this place, Blaise?"

In the air he wrote with his wand in slanted green fire. "Two."

"That's all? You didn't protect against anyone _finding _this house?!"

"Only you know where I live and now this mudblood."

"Don't call her that," he bellowed.

The world jerked. The walls shook, dust fell, and Hermione tumbled to the floor, sneezing from the inhalation of stirred grime. She groaned, pain in her hip, loud footsteps surrounding her, and a dark hand shoved her under the bed.

There was no doubt what was happening. The place was under attack. Her mind reeled. It was too soon, she didn't even get settled in. How? The wards... How did they find them?

"Watch her," Nott yelled and a door slammed.

Zabini came in beside her blocking the light, shrouding them in darkness. She tried to squirm past him, but he held her shoulder keeping her still. She laid her hand over his with the intention of pulling it off, but he placed his other hand on top of hers. In her ear, he stumbled over raspy words.

"I don't care about you."

She understood. He wouldn't defend her or the box like Nott had. She didn't care, she kicked him, the toe of her sneaker connecting with his shin. He growled and slammed her down, her head hitting with a sickening crack, stars bursting behind her lids. She cried out, "Zabini, don't," but he couldn't hear her, and she was trapped with her enemy as her enemy-turned-friend was fighting her fight.

With her free hand she got her wand. In the air she wrote quickly, burning words of red like fire under the mattress. Only one word, a name.

"Gryffindor."

He released her and the words went up in smoke. She blasted the bed off of her, landing with a breaking crash on the counter, and abruptly, the trembling stopped.

The light didn't blind her the way she assumed it would, for something else was blocking it from the windows. Eight Death Eaters, Nott in front, a wand at his throat.

She had four seconds to think through a plan, but there was none, none that wouldn't get them all killed. They were outnumbered and she had never felt more alone or even more scared. Through all of her experiences with Harry and Ron, even being tortured and near death in the Malfoy Manor, it wasn't that bad. Harry and Ron were there. However, Zabini would gladly hand her over and Nott had no choice but to watch in her struggle and death.

They were as good as dead and her last memories would be of Draco, the memories she rejected, pushed back until she swore they didn't exist. Then there was him...

_She curled herself between his legs, her back on Draco's chest. Their fingers linked on her stomach. He kissed her hair and she leaned up to kiss his neck._

_From a window in the corridor where they sat they watched the snow fall from the navy blue sky. Little crystalline flakes swirling down onto the frosted grounds. She wished never to move from his warm embrace. He was better than a warm fire and hot chocolate._

_Her lids became heavy as he whispered sweet dreams in her ear. That's all they were though. Just sweet dreams they had together that would never come true. Nonetheless she held them close. She could dream._

***

_Arms ladened with books she moved carefully through the crowd on the third corridor. He strolled past her, slapping his hand on the top most book under her chin, effectively making them tumble to the floor. He laughed loudly with his mates as they left, and she glared, but as she bowed to pick up her books, she grinned knowing that it was nothing short of an act, and a good plan. He wasn't that sneaky._

_As she piled them she opened the front cover. Tucked inside was a square cut note. __In his straight handwriting he had written,_"looking forward to tonight."

_***_

_She walked past the One-Eyed-Witch statue when a hand shot and tugged her into its darkness. She was against the wall, hands roughly on her hips, lips roughly on hers. She kissed him back with as much fervor not caring that she was in need of breath, the musky scent of him filling her depraved lungs._

_He moved over her, his hands caressing her hair and cheeks until he tilted her head up to his. He whispered against her, "I love you."_

_"How much," she sighed.._

_"More than my wand."_

_She was officially out of breath. She gasped. "Tha-That's a strong thing to say."_

_"Nothing matters more than you, Hermione. Nothing ever will."_

_She brushed his hair from his eyes. "I love you too."_

_"How much?"_

_"More than my magic."_

***

_Hermione raised her brow at Nott who had joined her in the darkest corner of the library. He was being quite a pest lately, insisting that she stay out of it all. She knew what the conversation would entail before it begun. Even Draco was becoming annoyed by it, and he never became annoyed at his best friend. He owed him too much..._

_"I think what happens between Draco and I is our business. Don't you agree," she said softly, albeit rudely. She never attempted rudeness to anyone before, but there came a time __when there was enough for one person._

_"Not when it can bring down all of us," he responded just as quietly, leaning towards her._

_"Why does this concern you so much?"_

_"He's my friend! You two can get us all killed! Be careful, Granger. I reckon I'd hate killing you."_

_She smiled understandingly. "Yeah, I suppose I wouldn't like killing you either."_

_"I really wouldn't."_

_"Because of Draco?"_

_"Because of you." He shifted in his seat. "Because of Draco and the damage it would do to this world that you're so intent on saving."_

_Surprised, she said nothing. Awkwardly he left, shoving the chair out of his way. She didn't get up to chase him, she couldn't even move._

_What did he mean? Because of her?_

_***_

_He waited for her in her and Draco's usual spot. It couldn't have been a good sign. Something punched her in her gut._

_"Where is he," she demanded harshly._

_"Hospital Wing."_

_Her breath halted halfway into her windpipe, and Nott immediately began explaining his hands out as if ready to catch her._

_"He's fine. You're friend, Potter slashed him up pretty badly. He lost a lot of blood, but nothing that won't heal." He took a kind demeanor to her suddenly. _

_"He's fine," he added._

_"Harry wouldn't do something like that," she said mostly to herself. She had more or less forgotten that Nott was there and that he was speaking, but she wasn't listening. She took off down the corridor, her feet making much more noise than she would have usually allowed. She had to know, whether Harry hurt Draco._

***

_Nott peaked into the Hospital Wing as she pretended to be looking through her books. The titles blurred in her vision as she waited._

_"They're gone, come on. Quickly."_

_She made her way past him and gasped as she saw Draco in the first bed. He was nearly as white as the sheet. He looked... Dead. There was no life in him, no blood, and if it wasn't for his light breathing, his chest rising and falling, she would have thought so._

_She slowly sat beside him, taking his hand in hers. "Draco?"_

_He didn't answer of course, he didn't even stir. The tears spilled over and she let them silently. "He's okay?"  
_

_"Madam Promfrey said he would be in good shape tomorrow. Professor Snape saved his life."_

_"Thank you, for your help. I wouldn't have been able to see him otherwise."_

_"I know." He sat on the other side of him but looked only at her. "I see that you really do love him."_

_She nodded. "I do."_

_"You know how this is going to end too, don't you?"_

_The tears came faster. "That's why I need to be here now. I need as much time with him as I can. It'll end," she choked. "There's no other way, but I can hope, keep a part of it alive that maybe one day we'll find each other again. If we're... Alive."_

_"There can be someone else for you."_

_"Maybe... But no one will be him." She gazed up at him. "You're not him, you know? __You follow in his footsteps but you're not him as much as he's not his father. You're different, you can't always protect him like he protects me. Who will protect you?"_

_"I can protect myself."_

_"You can change sides. I can help you -"_

_"I'm not leaving him. I would, if I could, but I can't. He needs me more than your side needs me. Sometimes, we do crazy things for friends. We'll do evil things if it keeps them alive."_

_"Yes," she whispered. "When we love them, there really are no bounds."_

_He reached over and took her hand. He squeezed it, and grimaced. "One day," he said ominously._

_She didn't have time to ask him what he meant, for Draco woke then._

Her head pounded. Draco said he loved her. They did say it to one another... Nott always cared... She cared too... Her brain throbbed against her skull as the buried memories she fought resurfaced. They bubbled and burned and she could see them more clearly than she ever had before.

Her eyes captured Nott's and she brought herself back to the present.

Four seconds had passed and no idea came. She looked into each of their masks, unable to see any of their faces. She couldn't identify any of them. She wondered who they were and why they hadn't been captured. Another mistake they made.

When she was about to admit defeat Zabini grabbed her, pulling her tightly onto his chest. He twisted her wand out of her grip and pointed it at her jugular. She froze as the two wands poked her, heating at the ends.

Nott announced in a deadened voice, "hurt us and she dies."

One of the Death Eaters giggled, a girly shrill. "Very Slytherin. There's hope for you yet."

"Shut it, Pansy."

"You're in no position to give orders, Theo. I've waited a long time to see this mudblood bitch die." She cocked her head and snarled. "Unless, that is, she wants to give us the book."

Hermione made certain that she didn't make a move to show that it was hidden on her body. She kept unnaturally still. "Do you even know what the book is, or did your new master keep that little bit of information from you?"

The closest Death Eater to her drew back his hand and in a flash of blinding pain he hit her jaw. She bit her tongue, blood filling her mouth, the taste of copper strong and bile rose in the back of her throat.

"Stand back, Rowle," Pansy ordered. "She's mine."

"I'm no one's," she said.

Rowle hit her again.

"Stop it," Nott yelled, freezing them all. There was a fire of fury in his eyes, his lips twisted in anguish. "Quit it. We'll give you whatever you want, just let her go."

Pansy laughed coldly. "What is this? You have a thing for the mudblood?" She shook her head. "Search her."

Rowle ran his hands down her sides. She twisted, fought as much as she could to get away from his disgusting touch, but with Zabini's arm constricting her chest, she couldn't move. She swallowed and gritted her teeth and waited for it to be over. She prayed that he wouldn't feel the slender box that was pressed against her backside.

"Careful with those wands," he warned Zabini gruffly. It sounded like he swallowed nails.

Over her shoulders, her arms, and then her rib cage. She squirmed again to keep his hands off her breasts but he moved over them anyway, slower than any other part of her body.

She met Nott's stare and surprised that he looked capable of murder. He fought too, straining against the bonds of hands that held him in his place. His wand was no longer in his pocket having been confiscated by what looked to be a big burly man.

Rowle felt over her hips and she held her breath. _Stop, stop, please, stop._ He did, but it wasn't the box that he was feeling, it was Malfoy's wand. She jerked and Zabini's arm moved to her neck, and she choked from lack of air.

The house jerked again like an earthquake beneath them. It happened in sheer moments. The Death Eaters steeled themselves looking up to the crashing ceiling and with that Nott was released. Zabini let her go as he wound his arms around her waist pulling her off his friend and on to the floor. He covered her, and everything disappeared as a chunk of wood cut into her brow.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Bloody Book

A house in the woods... Zabini... Nott... Death Eaters... The house destroyed... Death... Was there death?

Hermione gasped and sat upright, knives diving through her veins and muscles. She gasped and clutched the mattress below her. Wildly she examined the room, but it was too dark to see anything.

"Scared?"

She inhaled sharply, her head instinctively turning to the right corner of the room. She saw nothing, but she recognized the voice to be Goyle's. She slid herself back, pressing herself to the headboard.

"You _are_ scared," he chuckled.

She clutched her chest, feeling her thin shirt and the rips near the neckline. "Where's Nott?"

"Worried about your boyfriend, eh?"

"More worried about you if anything happens to him." She didn't know where she got her strength, but the thought of him hurt sent a fire through her. In that moment she knew that she would kill for him.

"You were always a brave girl, Granger."

She felt her jeans, feeling the dried blood on her leg below the hem of her shorts. Someone took her robe... Her wand... The book!

"Where's the book?"

"Potter and Weasley put up quite a fight to get you out of there, the wards were easy to break, all they had to do was get through ours. Too bad ours was better."

"Where's the book?!"

"Confiscated into my hands. All of your wands too. Zabini is tied up at the moment. Nott is undergoing questioning. His pick in loyalties are pathetic. We are patiently waiting now for your friends to come and join us. How long do you suppose they'll be?"

"So you haven't..."

"Used to the book? No, I have to say I've been too busy watching you sleep. You are quite... Sexy, the way you twist and turn. I am very turned on."

Her stomach lurched, the promise of upheaval of whatever she ate last. It had been at least a day since she ate properly. The dizziness rebuked her for it.

"Tell me, how long until your friends come?"

Would they come? Harry and Ron, did they still love her? Even after all they had been through, she couldn't say that their love went to the bounds to forgive her for her past, and all the trouble she was now causing them. If they didn't try to rescue her again, she couldn't blame them, but it was her fault if Nott died.

It was up to her. She wouldn't lose Nott. Not him... There was no getting away from it in the face of death. She loved him. Truly she did. Not because he was close to Draco, not because they both mourned, not because he was _like_ him, because he wasn't. Nott was colder but no less kinder. In some way, it was clear, that the person Draco wanted her to be with, was him. They were meant for each other, another path she hadn't seen, hidden beneath her pain and worry. So what did it matter anymore? She had to use his given name. She was on the verge of losing everything, and she had already lost so much. She was sorry that it had taken her as long as it did to think his name with clarity, and not just because she was in grief. On the contrary in the moment, she was fully aware of everything.

"I'll answer any questions you want," she bargained, "if you let me see Theo."

"I have the Horcrux book. The only reason you're alive is because you make a nice piece of bait for the hero of the Wizarding world and his ginger sidekick. You're not alive because of your knowledge. I bet you never read the book, did you? It's nice, hand-written, clear, concise instructions. It will be a prized treasure among my ruling. I've worked hard for it.

It was not too hard to steal this from you. It was inconvenient. Getting your records from the Ministry, breaking into your parents house, reading through your diary, finding your mudblood friend, Tony. It's sad, as close as you two were, you didn't know that he died. He's nicely preserved in that grave of his."

Her stomach lurched again. Tony was dead, and worse Goyle dug him up to steal hairs. He disturbed the peace of her childhood friend. "You're a sick bastard," she spat at him.

"But you made it so easy, Granger. Poor Potter, worried over you he went to the Ministry. One of my loyals overheard him and Weasley speaking. Potter is smart to think he'd go over to Zabini's. It took a bit of magic but no time at all to find you. Zabini's magic has been poor since the the war. It wasn't only his hearing that was effected. He got what he deserved, and now, the rest of you will too."

Overcome by a need to get to him, to get to the book, and most of all to kill him she moved one leg off the bed.

"I can see you. I think you ought to be grateful that I didn't bind you to the bed. Keep still and I won't."

Reluctantly she moved back into her position. Though she couldn't see and her eyes were not adjusting she kept them open. "Why didn't you?"

"I have the upper-hand here. I don't need to tie you."

He was right, she was trapped. There was nothing she could do. She wracked her brain anyway, but came up with nothing. Five minutes passed, thirty, sixty, and then two hours. She slumped over onto the multiple pillows feeling useless. She strained to hear screaming but heard nothing. Comforting herself with the thought that he didn't put a silencing spell on the door she rested assured that Theo was okay. It was foolish but she had nothing else left to hold on to.

To keep her mind off of what would happen in a matter of time, she thought of the book. What would have destroyed it? What hadn't they seen? Goyle called it a prized treasure. Of course, among elite, prejudice pure-bloods, it would be. Among Death Eaters. Superiority, power, and blood were main factors in them. What were some of the tricks Voldemort used?

When Harry traveled with Dumbledore to fetch the fake locket out of the cave, Harry said it would only open for blood. Blood... What if Voldemort heard the idea from someone else? What if it was from Draco's uncle? It wouldn't bee just any blood though, the cave was a death trap, the book was treasured. Voldemort thought it a shame when pure blood was spilled.

Pure blood on the book... Could it be that easy? Was it just the tired runnings of her mind hoping to come to a solution before her death? There was only one way to find out, but it was impossible, there was no way she could fight Goyle without her wand.

She thought of what he said. _"You are quite... Sexy."_

If she could summon Ginny's ability to lie, then maybe...

"Goyle?"

"What is it?"

"Why would you do this? I had so much respect for you."

He guffawed. "Respect for me? You looked down upon me. Everything that will happen to you tonight will be what you had coming. Always being the perfect know-it-all. A right bitch."

"I'm sorry. I know I didn't behave well, but... I like you. I didn't know how to show it." The lies rolled off her tongue, easy as silk. She was apparently better under pressure; she had lied well before when she was being tortured by Bellatrix.

"Draco loved you. Yes, I know about that, it was the only reason he'd leave his possessions to you. A mudblood."

"But it was you I wanted. If you're going to kill me, fine!" She leaked passion into her voice, let it drip from her lips. She kept Theo in her minds eye, of what would happen to him if she couldn't pull off her plan. "It's better to die by your wand than any other. Just give me this one time. I want to feel you. Please."

She listened to the scraping of the chair, the heavy footsteps. She tensed and closed her eyes for the first time since she woke. She waited, and she felt his hand on her arm. She could have vomited, letting a man who infiltrated everything in her life to get the power Voldemort was forced to relinquish. He killed Draco.

"You are hot."

She turned to the voice, something sticking into her leg. She brushed her hand over her hip to her thigh. She reached up and kissed Goyle quickly, hiding her smile.

He pressed and pulled. He bit down. Hard. She tasted salt, copper, and sweat. She smelled it too, the awful sweetness of it, but she kept kissing him. She had to get him distracted.

He pushed her on to her back, falling on her. She was nearly winded, wheezing for breath, but he didn't notice that his body was too heavy to be on hers. He slipped his slimy tongue in. Her head swam with the sickness of it. She pictured Theo and Draco, Harry and Ron, everyone that she was fighting for. It was her turn to save the world.

When he moaned, Hermione grazed her hand over his waist to her own. She held his head to hers as she took out the sliver glass from her pocket. She had kept it with her at all times, the only piece that was left of her gift to Draco, the one with the words "_trust your instincts_" etched on it. She aimed blindly over his back, and then plunged it in, past the flesh and muscle, blood spurting over her fingers.

The scream was horrifyingly loud in her ear, and with great effort she shoved him off, rolling him onto his back, digging the glass further into him. She hovered over him, feeling over his bulky body for the book and their wands. She only found one wand in his pocket.

"Lumos," she casted, the light flooding his agonized features. She relished it. "I have never wanted to kill anyone as much as I want to kill you," she hushed over his whimpers. "But I won't. You don't deserve the easy way out."

She dismounted him and left what she distinguished was a camp bed. She went to the other side of the small room and saw the shadow of a seat where a rectangle object was sitting. She didn't have a choice, she had to pick it up, but she did with her left hand, the wand in her right.

The second the leather touched her skin, it burned. It was worse than setting her hand on a hot cooker. Her skin was being burned away faster than any non-magical heat could have done. She was blinded by the pain, but she kept moving.

She climbed onto the bed and flipped Goyle back over. Not bothering with gentleness she took out the glass, feeling it move along the tendons, the noise of sucking blood.

"How does it feel," she jeered uncharacteristically; angrily. "How does it feel to end what you wanted to begin?" She held the book to his bloody back, it trembling on contact, as if it was alive.

There was screaming that didn't belong to Goyle. It was ethereal, filling her ear drums. Black smoke curled up, stinging her nose with its dead rodent odor. She leaned all of her weight on it, hoping to speed the process. It wasn't long though, until the book collapsed into dust, the screaming ceasing. Goyle gasped, yelling. She didn't realize that he was making any noise.

One last time, she bent her lips to his ear, and asked, "how does it feel?" She didn't wait for his answer, she ran out of the room into the light, her marred hand to her chest. She hardly felt the sticky wetness stream down her arm, dripping off her elbows.

_For you, Draco._

Hermione stumbled into what appeared to be a lounge. It was difficult to tell, the furniture in shreds, light exploding. Theo dueled two men, their feet moving expertly through bits of cardboard, and white fluff that was once a stuffed couch. There were two more doors, one to her right and another to her left.

She clutched the wand, and as she looked down, she realized that she was holding Draco's wand.

_"I give my wand, knowing that she'll find a better use."_

She jumped in beside Theo, and began waving hexes and curses at their enemy. Their hoods were down, but she didn't recognize them. They were scarred too badly, their faces contorted.

"Where's Goyle," Theo yelled.

"He's nursing a wound and the loss of his precious book," she responded, cursing her man through a door, falling into blackness. She twirled Draco's wand between her fingers, like he used to do. It felt good, revenge truly was sweet.

"Way to go, Granger!" He grinned, fighting harder than ever, his opponent into the far wall. A gray and white painting fell on his head, knocking him out cold. Theo panted but the smile on his lips said that he was pleased.

"Where's the others," she asked, gasping herself, her left hand protectively staying at her chest, her shirt soaked with the flowing blood.

"Zabini didn't take kindly to his house being destroyed," he snickered. "You can be sure that Potter and Weasley will hear about it. Saw them out of the window, they're still trying to get the wards down."

She nodded. "Draco would have been proud."

"Granger, your hand."

She glimpsed at it, seeing white poking from her thumb. Bone. "It's nothing. It'll heal. Go help get the wards down."

He ran to the door, but stopped short. "Thank you. He would've been proud of you too - not surprised, but proud."

"How sweet," said a sarcastic voice from the door that she had come through. Goyle rested against the door frame, his skin pallid and gray.

Theo spun, raising his wand, but Goyle had already sent a spell. The last she saw was a green flash. It echoed in her dead eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

The Watch

Bright whiteness. Hermione was more comfortable than she had ever been in her life, breathing in the purity. No scents, no hurt, she was clean, and dressed in a maroon sun dress. She felt the silkiness. She looked around. It must've been heaven, right? Nothing so lovely could have existed on Earth.

"Hermione?" Draco appeared in front of her out of the fog that encompassed her, his gray eyes sad as he appraised her. "You aren't supposed to be here."

She beamed, barely hearing him. He was there, with her, and with every bit of her she knew that she was indeed in heaven. There was no doubting it, he was there, with her. They were together, everything she ever wanted, and with elation she lunged at him, embracing him to her. He felt warm and alive, his arms were around her. It no longer mattered where they were, they were together.

"Hermione," he breathed, brushing the wisps of her hair.

"Mmm," she cooed against his chest, not hearing a heartbeat.

He kissed the top of her head, and pulled her back. He searched her face, the corner of his lips turning up the slightest. "I miss you."

"You don't have to anymore. I'm here."

"No, you have to go back," he said earnestly his fingers pressing into her back. "You can't stay here."

"Why not? I'm dead, aren't I?" Tears, there were tears in heaven in her eyes, and she shook her head. "You can't make me go. Please, Draco, we're finally together. I've waited so long for this, don't make me leave."

"You don't belong here, not yet. You'll have to go back. They're going to get you back."

"What do you mean?"

His smile widened. "You think I would have risked your life if I didn't have an alternative? I'll show you." He knelt, bringing her with him, waving his hand over the white below them. It cleared way much like the mirror Ron had, but in the view she saw an overview of Goyle's place, the scene that was occurring right then.

In the middle of the room, she laid, dead. Her eyes were open, but not seeing, her hair splayed in tangles. Goyle was dead on the other side, Theo on his knees beside her. He was howling in pain, and for a wild moment she thought he had been hurt, but it was her he was crying for, for the loss he felt of her. It tugged at her, but she kept herself rooted, with Draco.

Harry and Ron rushed in, Ron froze in place inside the door, Harry falling next to her body. He cried too, a terrible of a cry as Theo's.

Hermione went to reach for him, but it was too far away, and she was stopped by a force she couldn't explain. She wasn't able to go back there, not then. She didn't particularly want to, it was only a need to comfort the ones she hurt.

"C'mon, Potter," he muttered, "don't be stupid." His body was tense as he waited for whatever he hoped to happen. She looked back down to the scene, and saw that Harry had reached into his tattered blue robe. In the palm of his hand was Draco's watch.

_"To the Scar-head, a watch. When you need the last five minutes. Don't blow it."_

"Draco, no! I don't want to go back!"

He grabbed her neck, tugging her to him, kissing her lips tenderly. "I love you," he whispered in her mouth. "Always. You've done so well. Thank you, for everything."

"No... I want to stay." She sounded pathetic, a child who was not getting their way.

"We'll see each other again, I promise. I _swear_ to you. This isn't the end. Ends don't exist, Hermione, just a continuous of a circle. You learn that when you're dead.

I love you. So does Theo and Harry. Choose what's best for you. That's all we ever wanted for each other."

Harry wound the watch back, and she was forcefully wrenched away, Draco slipping out of her hold. She extended her arms for him, but he wasn't there. She was descending down, leaving him.

Her heart started thumping in her chest, her lungs filled with polluted air. Being stood upright, the colors of life dulling, the ill-fitting and soreness returned, she came to life.

Goyle stood in front of her, his wand raised. Theo, and Harry and Ron who came running in all cursed him, green streams hitting him in the chest, one after another. He fell.

Hermione fell as well, her body adjusting itself to the return of her spirit. She gasped and wheezed.

"Hermione!"

Her three friends crowded around her. Theo took her hand, Harry her head.

She exhaled, chortled, then laughed that turned into a riot wracking her. It was surreal, coming back to life, uneasy to say the least. Her spirit seemed too big for her body.

"Hermione?"

She blinked. "You should've been in Gryffindor, Theo."

They all laughed, despite the position they were in, the dead bodies, the close calls, her death. It was a release, but her mind was with Draco. He was still watching, and so when she sat up she looked between Theo and Harry. It was time that everyone knew...

"Ginny hates my cooking, Harry," she blurted out. She had to get out everything, every feeling, get the resolve. It had to be worked out right there, or else it never would. The book was gone, the world was safe once more thanks to them, thanks to Draco. It need to be over with. It was done. Over.

"What," he asked, his hands holding loosening in her hair until he dropped them.

"She comes to my house on my weekends for you. She likes you. Always has. Over the years I've been too much like a sister - a mother to you. Please, Harry, realize that it was never supposed to be us. Can't you see that?"

Harry nodded slowly, but the fresh pain she brought him didn't leave the creases of his face.

"Harry -"

"No, don't say it. Please, don't tell me you don't want to be with me again."

"I love you, but not the way you want me to, I'm sorry, I really am."

He flinched. "Lets take you to St. Mungo's."

"I'm fine! I know what I'm talking about!"

"I know you're thinking straight, I just want you to get checked out. You died, you need to go." He removed a speck of dirt from her cheek.

"Ron won't be angry with you."

Ron shrugged. "Harry, mate, she's right. And Hermione, he's right too, you need to go to St. Mungo's."

"I'm fine, I really am. Please, tell me you forgive me. Both of you." It meant more than anything, to have their forgiveness for the past twelve years.

Harry and Ron suddenly smiled. "How can you think we wouldn't? You fought with us, you stayed with us. You chose your side, he chose his."

Harry swept a lock of hair from her brow his smile faltering to a frown. "We're sorry that we left you in this position. If it weren't for Nott here... You should forgive us, for our prejudices."

She hugged them both, kissed their cheeks. "Ginny, please, Harry, consider giving her a chance, she's not the girl she was when she was little. She's grown up a lot."

"I'll talk with Ginny, don't you worry yourself over that."

Theo constricted his hold on her forearm, having not relinquished since her heart began beating again. He was likely causing another bruise. "This is all wonderful, but can you two wait outside? I need a second with her. If you don't mind."

They didn't waver as they touched her arm, squeezed her hands, and obediently they left, but not without worrying glances to her. She jerked her head to the door to signal her okay. However, she knew them plenty well to know that they would press their ears to the door to hear.

When it was closed, he asked her the question that must have been burning him since she woke. "You saw him, didn't you?"

She could practically feel the warmth and comfort, the phantom of the fresh memory that would always stay with her. "Yes. He's happy."

Theo moved closer, his arm wrapped over her shoulders. "Know this above everything. This isn't about healing. This is about two people who has been through hell and came out unknowingly with each other. We belong together. We always had."

"I love Draco." He needed to know that above all else, it was the most important thing. She would never stop being in love with Draco, he would always be in her life in some form.

"I don't expect to take his place. I want my own."

"You have it, but it was a mistake -"

"It was fate."

"Since when do you believe in fate?"

"Since I saw you at that bloody Gryffindor table. Tell me you love me, Hermione."

The honey in his eyes spoke honesty and she found herself leaning in. She felt his breath come out in short puffs on her nose. Then she touched her lips to his and she nearly thought her spirit was leaving her again. He palmed her cheek bringing her closer to where she was straddling his lap. She weaved her fingers in his hair bringing him nearer, making him hers. The way it was supposed to be.

Trailing kisses over his neck, she confessed. "I love you, Theo."

"I'm yours."

* * *

A/N: There's an epilogue.


	19. Epilogue

Epilogue

"Miss Granger! Miss Granger!"

Hermione stopped suddenly, her wand hovering over the dusty curtains. A little boy, waist high, came charging up to her from the grand staircase that led up to the boy's west wing. She smiled kindly at him as he stomped up to her.

"What's the matter this time, Nate?"

"Bale lost it _again_! He broke my glasses!" He held up his round spectacles as proof. Indeed they were cracked in both lenses.

"It's not too bad," she assured. She remembered fixing Harry's glasses many times during their childhood. She tapped them with her wand, fixing them up as good as new. She placed them back on the boys nose.

"I don't want to stay in the same room with him! He's a bloody disaster!"

"Watch that mouth," she warned sternly. "You will stay in the room with him. He's young and has a temper. It's expected that his magic will get out of control. I will talk with him."

"Talking never does any good," he muttered gravely.

The front door opened, the rain echoing louder. Theo shook off the water from his cloak and hair. He caught sight of Hermione and Nate. "Hello. What's the matter this time, Nate?"

"Bale!"

He exchanged a look with Hermione and they both attempted to hide their smiles behind their hands. It wasn't all that funny, except that Nate complained frequently.

"Fine! Be that way! No one cares!" The small boy stormed back upstairs.

She sighed feeling a bit guilty. He needed more care than the others. "I should talk with him."

"He'll be fine, but perhaps we should separate those two. Preferably before Bale blows up the manor." He kissed her. "Where are the girls?"

"Harry and Ginny took them out."

"The rest of the boys?"

"Neville and Luna."

"Mmm," he hummed in her shoulder sending delicious chills through her system.

She tried to concentrate, mostly because it was wrong to do that when there were two children in the house. "I wished Bale and Nate could have gone, but that fight was unacceptable! They broke every dish there was!"

He laughed, coughing to cover it up at Hermione's glare. He swung her around and nibbled the lobe of her ear playfully, an obvious attempt to make her forget his lack of composure.

A year and half had past since her death. Everything came in clarity after she was brought back, her feelings, her acceptance, and what she was going to do with her inheritance. Of course, it had a lot to do with the book as well. There was no pressure, no worries. She could see clearly, make Harry see that Ginny was the one for him, and acknowledge that Theo was the one for her. Not because they healed each other, but because they always felt something for the other. Because they walked out of hell hand in hand. They proved they were strong enough.

A few months afterwards she began to fix up the Malfoy Manor to make it into a home for orphans of all ages. Most of the orphans had lost their parents in the war, like Bale and Nate.

Those two were going to cause her a second death, she just knew it. Trouble-makers, the lot of them. She loved them though, every single one. Theo and her wouldn't have moved in there together if they didn't.

She bit his lip, both of them moaning. "I have to finish this," she mumbled escaping his embrace to return to the curtains. He watched her with boredom, but once curtains were dust-free, she moved onto the mantle of the fireplace. She carefully swept, especially over the picture.

It was a picture no one saw, but Theo had finally found at Draco's old house, the one he was looking for when she attacked him. Something he didn't let her forget.

In the frame Draco stood behind her, his arm around her waist, Theo holding her hand. They were a trio of their own, the trio no one knew existed, but always had.

Theo came up to her then, slipping his hand into hers. "We're safe now."

"Finally," she breathed curling into his side.

They were safe.

* * *

A/N: I hope that all of you enjoyed this. Thank you for every review!

If you'd like to read more of my work, please visit my blog, you can find it listed in my profile under the homepage. You can also get excerpts for upcoming fan-fics there as well.

Much love!


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